


The Sun Sets in the West

by modernartifact



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Balchoth, Easterlings - Freeform, F/M, Fourth Age, Rhûn, Variags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-04
Updated: 2014-03-13
Packaged: 2017-12-25 13:57:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 62
Words: 296,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/953911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/modernartifact/pseuds/modernartifact
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of Rhun, the West knows little. Except there, Sauron rebuilt his power and waited. This pieces together the story of Rhun during the end of the Third Age into the Fourth, via the Westward journey of an Easterling-Elf who served the Dark Lord. It is a story of cultural difference, of uncertain redemption, but ultimately of love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Past Remembered

**Author's Note:**

> FYI:  
> The same story is posted on [fanfiction.net](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/8713594/1/The-Sun-Sets-in-the-West)  
> The OC (Vezely) is also actively roleplayed on Tumblr: [vezely.tumblr.com](http://vezely.tumblr.com)

Under the layer of dirt and dust accumulated from riding, the tall, svelte woman appeared distinctively Easterling in fashion due to her draped short trousers, the cut of her tunic, and head covering. The fabric of her pants was a dark burgundy colored silk, so matching that of the Easterling militia that it apparently came from their supplies. On top of it she wore a fitted, navy blue, knee-length jacket that bore light blue stitching on the lapels and the ends of the bell-cuff sleeves, forming an intricate arabesque design. On her head, a black silk headscarf was wrapped. It had previously shielded her face, but was pulled down under her chin, allowing her to breathe in the cool air. Golden threads were sewn into small geometric shapes bordering the bottom edges of the scarf - old runes of the Easterling writing system containing phrases of courage and honor. On her feet she wore knee-high black leather boots whose soles were sullied with dirt, having walked many roads prior. They were adorned with a pair of sai, one clasped to each of their outsides; while attached to her side was a sheathed scimitar - a long thin blade that was slightly curved. Its bronze handle could accommodate two hands comfortably.

Behind her an elegant black horse stood calmly as they waited on the edge of the ancient forest. She could sense their presence before they emerged though she was unsure at first, for Fangorn exuded an unsettling, haunted essence unlike anything she had felt before. Mithrandir's instructions were to wait there three days hence, where she would join him and his fellow travelers to Edoras, the king's seat of Rohan - old enemies from a past she knew this land would not have yet forgotten. Stationed nearby were two horses of the Rohirrim, one white and the other brown, waiting patiently for their masters to return from the forest's dark inner reaches.

A southern breeze suddenly blew below her, filtering through the dead grasses and billowing the fabric of her garb ever so slightly. She breathed the air that journeyed from afar, smelling the land that traveled with it. It had been near 500 years since she was west of Rhovanion, having been banished by King Thranduil on her unexpected encounter in Northern Mirkwood - the place she was born, but not raised.

In the middle of her second long breath of air, four forms emerged close to her right. Her left hand was already on her sword's hilt, for caution of the company's unknown intent. Gandalf's bright aura glared against the forest's darkness until it neutralized in the sun. She glanced at him, tilting her head down ever so slightly, respectively acknowledging his presence, only to realize one of his companions had drawn his bow and arrow, pointing it in her direction- a tall Elf of blond hair and fair complexion. She had encountered him before, the son of Thranduil, though his name eluded her at that time. He, on the other hand, had recognized her by name immediately. She stared back at him, the traditional black eyeliner of the Easterling militia unintentionally emphasizing her eyes' intensity. She was amused slightly at the feeling of being targeted as her hand relished the grip of her sword's handle, but she also felt unnerved by being reminded of their previous relations.

Gandalf quickly broke the tension, "Good, you're early," he said briskly as he walked towards her nonchalantly. "Then the task I set you to did not tarry." He had requested she seek the origin of any interference she discovered on the Westfold, not hinting to what that may be. It ended up being troops of Wildmen pillaging and raping villages, pledged to Sarumon the White.

Legolas's eyes showed mild confusion, "She is an enemy of men and elves, banished from these lands centuries past."

"Yes, but the terms of her banishment will have to be settled at a later date. For now, she has risked her life to bear invaluable news from Rhun and if we are to defeat Sauron, we will want all skilled warriors on our side," Gandalf said hastily as he moved next to her. "Vezely of Rhun," he turned to face the three, "Meet Aragorn, son of Arathron, Gimli, son of Gloin, and Legolas of the Woodland realm."

Vezely responded by placing her fist on her chest and bowing her head; an Easterling greeting.

Legolas slowly eased his bowstring, but not his eyes.

"You are an Easterling?" Aragorn asked calmly, trying to assess the situation which had unsettled his Elf companion.

"Yes and no," Vezely replied stoically, relaxing her other hand's grip from her hilt and turning her eyes to the ranger. She pulled her headscarf slightly farther down from her face. Was this Isildur's heir? She thought as she inspected him; having heard the rumors circulating. He had a kind demeanor, and soft eyes that betrayed an ever thoughtful mind.

"Vezely was raised in the East, but she is of Elvish decent," Gandalf intervened, leaning ever so slightly on his staff, deciding it best to not let the woman play games in the midst of noble hearts. "She is partially responsible for the first alliance between Gondor and Rohan, once a puppet of Sauron when he was posted at Dol Guldur. It was she who helped persuade the armies of the East to wage war on Gondor. But, and this I am certain," he directed his words at Legolas, "She has freed herself from Shadow and will pay her debt in time."

"The dark Elf witch of Balchoth," Gimli thought out loud, connecting the dots of history.

Vezely glared at the dwarf, not knowing her own legend in these lands, having spent the former century far past the Sea of Rhun where news from the West was slow and untrustworthy.

"Yes, the same," Gandalf responded.

"She cannot be trusted," Legolas spoke in Elvish, directing his words at Gandalf and Aragorn, for upon their prior meeting, Vezely did not understand the Elvish tongue. Unbeknownst to him, in the preceding century, she had studied their words from books she acquired.

"Nor should I be in these dark times," she responded abruptly, not in Elvish for fear of mispronunciation. "But know, we all share a common goal." Though fluent in Westron, she had a subtle accent that matched her foreign appearance.

"Indeed," Gandalf interjected with a smile, "Vezely has every reason to desire the fall of Sauron, and her sword will be most useful." The wizard walked further out into the grasslands, his grey cloak caught the low wind and he whistled melodically into the breeze, pitching the sound far into the surrounding area.

A great white horse descended from afar, floating gracefully as if clouds buffered its feet.

"That is one of the Maeras, unless my eyes are cheated by some spell," Legolas spoke amid the stunned silence; all were entranced by the sight of the mythical beast and it had momentarily eased the tension around him.

"Shadowfax," Gandalf greeted the steed who stood in front of him, patting him ever so gently on the nose. "He is the lord of all horses, and has been my friend through many dangers." Desiring to move on from the previous conversation, Gandalf quickly mounted the horse, "We ride to Edoras," prompting the others to follow.

Legolas glanced sternly at Vezely, as if to let her know she would be watched. She understood his suspicion, for she represented an abomination among his people - an Elf corrupted, tainted by the dark forces of this world, an occurrence all but unheard of. For exactly this reason, she was once a prize of Sauron, part of his revenge for the Elves' betrayal of his offer of an alliance. She would have to gain his trust and that of the king of Rohan if she was to regain any shed of honor in these lands.

As they rode across the great expanse of plains, Legolas's mind further considered the situation. Centuries passed since he last encountered her, after a horse transported her, injured and barely conscious, to the entrance of his father's city...

* * *

 

_Vezely had entered the forests of Mirkwood with a small company of Easterlings, returning from defeat in the battle in the Wold where she had slain Eorl the Young, Rohan's first king. They were undoubtedly taking a more direct route to the fortress of Dol Guldur, on the hill of Amon Lanc, where Sauron as Necromancer had taken up his residence a millennium into the Third Age. Many of King Thranduil's forces were off on campaigns against invading orcs, but their group would encounter a small band of Woodland Guard stationed on the southern borders. The following skirmish left only her standing, though in need of aid - a knife had pierced her left lung and an arrow had punctured her thigh._

_Gathering her spent body on a horse, the animal instinctively transported her closer to the Elvish residence; a large stone entrance that led to caverns underground. There she would fall from its back and lay still on the grasses below, bleeding her life away. A few Elves were in the area and approached her apprehensively, waiting to see if any others would follow. Instead, another band of Woodland Guard arrived, one of which was Legolas. They had followed the horse's tracks from the site of conflict; the dead bodies of their kinsmen fresh on their minds. They quickly had their arrows drawn on her._

_Sensing something wrong, a young healer instinctively ran to the fallen body, pushing her gently on her back. "It is a woman," she called out, "And she is Elf kind." Horrified, she looked at those around her, all unsure how this could be; for in the long history of the Eldar, the only slayings of Elf by Elf had occurred in the most infamous and tragic moments of the First Age._

_But caring not for her race, Legolas demanded the young healer to move, his fingers pulling back on his bowstring as the woman was falling in and out of consciousness; her hand trying but failing to grasp the blood stained sword that lay beside her. Legolas's companions took her weapon, and knowing it was stained with the blood of their fellow guardsmen, they wanted to let her die._

_But King Thranduil had calmly ascended on the scene, as if sensing the commotion from inside his halls. "Treat her wounds," his strong voice spoke assuredly, gesturing with his hand the command to lower their bows. A moment later, two elves lifted her body and took her to be tended to. Thranduil was all too aware of what had transpired; he could see it painted on the face of his son and fellow guardsmen._

_"Father," Legolas came to his side, his voice dripping in concern, "Are you sure that is wise?"_

_Thranduil gazed into Mirkwood's dark depths, his thoughts enveloped, as if assessing a message being passed through the surrounding trees. "There is reason behind her arrival here, a necessary path she must take…"_

* * *

 

So easily the past could be recalled, perhaps for having been one of the few moments in Legolas's long life that he doubted his father's judgment. He did not know what to make of her reappearance, though he would watch her carefully for she undoubtedly remained unpredictable.


	2. Easterling Spice Tea

Night had fallen on Rohan and the travelers decided to break until dawn. The trio quickly got to work setting up camp; a ritual which became routine during their long journey across Middle Earth. Vezely tended to her horse and found her flask to quench her thirst. She had been traveling for several months trekking through the flat lands of Rhovanian, braving harsher terrains away from water sources in order to stay out of Easterling militia marching grounds before skimming the borders of Mirkwood and coming south to Rohan. She was weary, though no more so than her present company; yet they seemed renewed by having regrouped with Gandalf, while also finding solace in the fact that two of their former traveling companions, hobbits of the Shire, were now relatively safe from harm. Vezely knew little about their former quest, though she suspected the One Ring was involved. She dare not ask for fear of garnering unnecessary suspicion. Her task was simple - to fight on their side in a war that would soon find them.

Aragorn had quickly started a small fire, which Gimli and Legolas provided kindling to. She quietly took a seat nearby, crossing her legs underneath her in a distinctly Easterling fashion.

"I think I shall sleep sound tonight," Gimli grunted as he sat down, feeling the past several days of tracking exhausting.

"And no doubt your snoring will dissuade everyone else from it," Legolas remarked bluntly, much to the amusement of the dwarf, who chuckled at his words. He then left with Aragorn to gather their supplies.

Having already pulled her scarf away from her face, she left it loosely on her head as one would a hood, preferring to keep her hair and ears hidden from sight. The light from the fire illuminated her pale face, while the whites of her eyes looked ghostly with the black liner. She quietly waited for the others to return, gazing solemnly into the fire.

"Wildmen are travelling in small bands, pillaging settlements on the western front," her voice broke the silence that continued even after they all gathered. Her eyes remained fixed on the flame. "They'll go from village to village if unhindered."

"Pledged to Saruman no doubt," Gandalf thought out loud.

Vezely nodded, "Yes, the man I queried yesterday said as much," having disbanded a small band of Wildmen the prior day during her travels.

"Your confirmation is appreciated," Gandalf said gratefully.

"It was a pleasure," she nodded forthrightly, having enjoyed the small battle she fought. Then seeking ease to her troubled mind, she asked wondering, "Yet the Rohirrim continue to ride north?" She had scouted their troop on her journey to Fangorn.

"That is precisely why we must reach King Theodon," Gandalf said assuredly, "Until then his people are at the mercy of Saruman's forces."

"The West continues to wait on its kings," Vezely remarked with slight disdain, narrowing her eyes on the fire, disliking far-reaching dictatorships. The East traditionally lacked central ruler ship before Sauron, instead it was divided into many fiefdoms and ruling clans. This way power was dispersed and the people were less likely to idealize their rulers as gods, though they were also easier to overthrow.

"And is the East any better lass?" Gimli inquired gruffly.

Vezely stared at him intensely for a brief second before smirking, "Not currently."

Gimli laughed, realizing perhaps she was not always serious.

Hoping to gather more information, Aragorn asked, "And this news you bring?"

Looking first to Gandalf for approval, Vezely explained, "It is as expected. The last of the Easterling resistance has all but fallen. Thousands of Easterling militia make their way to Mordor's Black Gates as we speak, no doubt to follow through on campaigns in Mirkwood and further North. Haradrim and the Corsairs of Umbar have their eyes on Gondor. Their numbers are great."

"Resistance? In the East?" Gimli queried, as if the rest of the news was expected.

Vezely replied steadily, "There has always been an outpost of free men around the Sea of Rhun. Morinehtar and Romestamo did all they could, and it was them who urged me to cross the Rhovanian to find Gandalf."

"You know the Blue Wizards?" Legolas asked suspiciously.

Looking at the elf slyly, she then smiled slightly, "If it were not for them, I would still be your enemy."

Legolas's eyes narrowed, wondering whether such a change was possible in one once so corrupted. "You have not yet proven contrary," he replied, finding the words leaving his mouth hastily, especially because right after he discerned a flash of apology in her eyes.

Vezely knew he had no reason to trust her outside of Gandalf's word. She had not been expecting to be confronted so quickly with a person from her past, despite the assault on the senses the West had already brought her since crossing over.

Gimli grunted, breaking the tension between the two elves. "Well before anyone proves anything, I'm getting some rest, seeing as we have another long day of riding awaiting us."

"Legolas, khila amin (follow me)," Aragorn stood up, hoping to remove Legolas from Vezely's presence for the time being.

As they left the fire, Aragorn calmly asked his companion, "There is bad blood between you."

"She killed my kinsmen," his voice sounded indifferent and cold, "It was my father who let her go."

Gandalf approached the men, placing a hand on the shoulder of Legolas, "King Thranduil would not condemn her fëa to eternal limbo in the Halls of Mandos, Legolas. Elves are by nature good. She is here to redeem that which is the light of your people."

Legolas assumed she had turned, though by what route he knew not. Then he asked unsure of the answer, "It is rumored she is descendent of Eluréd, one of the lost sons of Dior and Nimloth."

"Lord Elrond's line?" Aragorn hesitated, his eyes shifting to Gandalf.

"That is correct. When she was an infant, her parents were slaughtered by orcs in the very forests you spent your life protecting. And she was taken as a gift to Sauron, who had her raised as a warrior of the Balchoth all in order to prove again that the good in this world can be corrupted to do his bidding," Gandalf explained, hoping to shed light on her situation, "Her allegiance to her people and to Sauron was strong, and disconnecting from that past has proved most trying. If she seems off-centered, know it is not because she bids our people ill-will."

"Then she has my pity," Legolas replied guiltily, realizing now she had been a pawn in Sauron's plans.

"And she would not take it," Gandalf remarked bluntly, "She will appear brash and brazen to Elvish standards, her manners are Easterling. Yet she will do her part in this war. But you had good reasons to doubt her. As you might imagine, King Theodon may not take kindly to her presence and it should be his call whether she is allowed to live for her sins against his ancestors. It is hoped he will accept her sword. If not, I cannot protect her. She knows this and she accepts this."

Aragorn added considering, "If the stories of her are true, he would be a fool to deny her aid."

"Indeed," Gandalf agreed, hoping he had instilled some sense of calm in his companions. "Another reason why the Blue Wizards insisted on her relocation. There was little more she could do in the East after the resistance fell, but the West is in dire need of skilled warriors."

Meanwhile, Vezely prepared a place a little further from the fire, hoping to give her companions the space she felt she had encroached upon. She wanted to rest her mind, having been alert for days roaming through the orc and Wildmen-infested Rohan. She looked up at the stars before closing her eyes, finding some semblance of peace in the fact that they still appeared in Rohan, something she had missed since Shadow fell on Rhun, and since her captivity in Dol Guldur. Perhaps there is something worth fighting for, she thought before drifting off.

* * *

The next morning Vezely awoke early, hoping to tend to Gizik before setting out again. The black horse had accompanied her through many travels, and became a close friend and confidant in such times of isolation. She greeted her softly in Easterling tongue.

"What is her name?" Aragorn asked politely, approaching her from the side.

"Gizik," Vezely replied, her eyes on his, "In Westron it means storm, and she lives up to that name," she then smiled proudly, patting the horse on the nose.

Aragorn did likewise. "She is a rare breed in these lands," he noted, admiring the creature's graceful lines.

"She is a descendent of the horses of the Wainriders, charioteers, bred swift, fearless, and strong," Vezely stated while fastening her blanket to the back of the saddle.

Aragorn spoke to the horse in Elvish, causing her ears to perk up and her eyes to look upon Aragorn kindly.

"You speak Elvish well?" Vezely asked raising one eyebrow, slightly surprised by his fluency.

"I was raised by Elves for some time," Aragorn revealed humbly.

"I see. I was raised amongst Easterlings, I learned the Elvish tongue only recently," she remarked nonchalantly, throwing a glance at Legolas, who had also arisen and approached the area.

"'Quel amrun (good morning), Legolas," Aragorn greeted in his direction.

"'Quel amrun," he replied, taking the two Rohirrim horses further off, he acknowledged Vezely's presence with a small nod.

"I make him uncomfortable," she quietly spoke to Aragorn. "I do not blame him." She looked momentarily discontent, something Aragorn picked up - a small crack in her tough exterior, he thought.

"Here," Aragorn handed her a small leaf wrapped parcel, "You should eat something before heading out."

Vezely nodded in gratitude, taking and unwrapping the green leaf to reveal light colored bread.

"It's lembas, Elvish whey bread, a small amount will fill your stomach," he explained before leaving.

She stared at it momentarily, having seen it once before. Taking a small bite and swallowing she was again amazed by its nourishment, as if she had eaten a whole meal and could remain satisfied for hours. She rewrapped the leaf and placed it in her rucksack. Then taking Gizik by the reigns she regrouped with the others who were also preparing to ride out.

Over mountains and plains, the vast stretches of Rohan seemed to coalesce on one point. "Edoras and the Golden Hall of Meduseld," Gandalf announced, slowing his horse's speed before their approach. "There dwells Théoden, King of Rohan, whose mind is overthrown. Saruman's hold over King Théoden is now very strong."

Vezely followed behind the others as they entered the settlements below the Golden Hall. Villagers stared suspiciously at the odd mix of travelers; the silence allowed only their horse's hooves to be heard among the streets.

Gimli broke the silence further with a grim remark, "You'll find more cheer in a graveyard."

Dispensing their horses at the stables, which were perched high on the hill, they climbed the steps to the Golden Hall directly above. The view was breathtaking, providing a perfect view of the kingdom's expanses - a true seat of a king.

Gandalf, having already warned the others of holding their tongues, turned to Vezely, saying specifically, "Now, no mention of your identity until the right time presents itself. The king has enough to worry about without having to deal with an enemy of Rohan's past."

She nodded in agreement; concealing her identity had become routine in her present life and the reasoning behind her constant wearing of head gear. Her elven ears were always a problem amongst the company of men.

At the entrance, they were greeted by guards dressed in full armor. The men of Rohan were swarthy folk, wearing beards and unruly, long wavy hair.

The man in the middle spoke nervously but with a sense of duty and honor, "I cannot allow you before Théoden king so armed, Gandalf Grayhame. By order of… Gríma Wormtongue."

With a nod from Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli began removing their many weapons and giving them to the guards. Vezely did the same, though parting from them, even temporarily proved trying. Her eyes bore holes into the guard she gave them to, who looked at her bewildered, not knowing what to make of this strange Easterling woman who was armed so heavily.

The head guard again addressed Gandalf, "Your staff."

In all his cunning charm, Gandalf replied, "Eh? Oh. No, you would not part an old man from his walking stick?"

Perhaps knowingly, he allowed the old wizard to pass, staff intact. Gandalf gave a reassuring wink, taking Legolas's arm as false assistance as they entered the Golden Hall. A pale wretch of a man, with black greasy hair stood at the side of the wearied king, whispering in his ear.  _Undoubtedly a servant of Sarumon_ , Vezely thought while taking in his unsavory appearance.

As the conversation commenced, guards began encircling the group. Much to his dismay, Grima noticed Gandalf's staff causing the guards to attack them. The group fought back, allowing Gandalf safe passage to the king. Vezely kicked two guards high in the chest, sending them down on the ground; another she flipped effortlessly by grasping his fist and swiftly kicking his knee forward to throw him off-balance. Such a take-down maneuver reflected a Variag variant in fighting style that she was most fond of.

The head guard Hama ceased his soldiers from attacking them any further, allowing Gandalf to free his king from the evil bonds of dark magic. It was an alarming sight, watching the king transform back into his former self, only a shadow of the decrepit figure she first saw. With his strength returned, he cast Grima from the city. But as soon as he was informed of the death of his son, the revelry of the moment ceased. Further business would be delayed until Théodred, son of Theodon, was laid to rest.

In the time preceding the funeral, guards who once blocked their entrance to the Golden Hall were escorting them to communal quarters, though Gandalf remained in the main hall, further assisting Theodon with his grief. In the cabin, there were several tables and cots, and a wash room, which Vezely took advantage of in order to wash her face of its accumulated dirt from traveling. She removed her headscarf completely, and ran her fingers through her short hair. She did not conform to the standards of beauty in these lands, where long locks graced almost every head of female folk and most men, for that matter. For her hair was short; sheared off years past and maintained to disregard notions of caring about her appearance. Even though slightly outgrown now, a shorter cut also proved practical underneath Easterling headgear and preferable in the insufferable heat of Rhun's dessert where she was previously stationed. A few gold rings lined her ears, and their pointy tips barely peeked through her tresses; though one of those tips was missing - a wound which still held much anger. Her neck was long and graceful and her skin fair, as all Elves are, regardless of the time she spent in the harsh sun. Yet she had faint freckles painted delicately across the brim of her nose and cheeks; a rare trait among Elves and those with it were said to be painted by the stars. Elves were blessed with beauty and loved beautiful things, though she would prefer to dismiss such triviality and felt her Elf-like appearance was more of a burden in the culture she was raised.

Having been left alone by the guards, she felt no need to replace her headgear immediately and stepped back into the main room among the three travelers.

Gimli looked on her in amazement, for a woman without long hair was uncommon, and such a stark contrast from Lady Galadriel, whose golden tresses enchanted him. "Well this is a rare sight," he mumbled while lounging in one of the chairs.

Legolas and Aragorn, who were not facing her way turned to see what Gimli was referring to. Legolas looked upon the woman he remembered prior to her leaving his home in Mirkwood. Her hair was the darkest color of the richest tilled earth; her skin with the subtle markings of the stars. Back then her hair was shoulder length, as was customary for Easterling women. Its loss, however, did not distract him from re-acknowledging that he held a mild interest in her exotic appearance. While it was common for Elves to delight in the beauty of others if they should possess it, he realized this was not simply admiration. Even if a weak attraction, it was a thought that further conflicted him now as it did then.

Vezely was instantly aware of their brief stares, for her unhidden appearance always elicited them. She narrowed her eyes slightly perturbed before completely ignoring them. Holding her head high, she moved towards her rucksack, which she placed in the opposite corner of the room. She leaned on her knees, her back facing them, which displayed the tattoos of Easterling script centered down her spine. Legolas took note of these markings and grew curious as to their meanings, while also taking notice to her missing ear tip; the sight of which disturbed him.

She removed a small tin from her pack which contained crushed tea leaves and spices. She had already put a kettle of water on the fire when they arrived.

"Some sort of tonic?" Gimli asked curiously, for food and drink was always on the dwarf's mind.

"I suppose. It's quite a common drink in Rhun with many variations." She grabbed a few more cups after putting the mixture into the kettle to brew.

Gimli grabbed the tin she placed on the table, cocking one eye up as he smelled its contents. "Cinnamon, and cloves?" He declared, surprised as he tried to grasp the mixture.

"And some nutmeg. Often it's served with milk and honey," Vezely added politely, as she began pouring the hot mixture into the cups. "It's a winter drink, to keep one warm on a winter night."

"These spices are uncommon West of Rhovanian," Aragorn remarked, taking the cup and enjoying the scent.

"And you forgot expensive," Gimli added joyful to soon taste it; commenting on how trade between East and West had slowed to such a point that it became nearly impossible to obtain such spices.

Vezely handed a cup to Legolas, holding it out to him with two hands in a Easterling gesture of respect. She did not say a word, nor did he when he took it, also with both hands, nodding politely at the exchange. She smiled slightly in recognition of his returned polite gesture. It was small moment Aragorn and Gimli picked up on, and both were grateful Vezely was making an effort to ease the tension between herself and their companion, for such would be needed if she were to continue with them on their journey.

"Some say the East is full of wealth. Perhaps that is true to an extent," Vezely finally replied to Gimli's assertion, after taking a seat next to Gimli.

"Well, you certainly wear your gold lass," Gimli said amused at her earrings and gold rings.

She looked at him furtively before holding up her hand in front of her face to admire its adornments, "It is customary for Easterling warriors to wear their clan-wealth or talismans stolen from their enemy's dead bodies. It is said to strike fear in those who would oppose them."

"Psychological warfare," Aragorn stated considering what he knew of Easterling military strategies.

"Those golden hordes would not make dwarves quake," Gimli said assuredly, sipping the brew only to burn his tongue.

"Perhaps not," she replied amused, and then looking at him with a raised eyebrow, "Of course, they would not have the  _dark elf witch of the Balchoth_  to lead them."

"She's almost as cocky as you," Gimli remarked jokingly, referring to Legolas who also smirked at the comment.

Aragorn chuckled and then added encouragingly to the woman, "You'll fit right in."

Vezely smiled and stared down into her cup before looking up at Legolas, meeting his blue eyes for a brief moment. She did not know what to make of it, but something stirred in her that moment and she had a hard time pulling her eyes away. He was curious about her and the time in between their first meeting, as she was of him for she had not been in the company of Elves. Yes, she was Elvish by blood but so far removed from their culture.

Cheered by the tea, Gimli began questioning Vezely of trade in Rhun, curious of their dealings and Vezely provided him any knowledge she had. It was small talk located well outside their current tasks, but it provided a mental respite much needed in these times. It also relieved Vezely of discussing any other specifics of her past. During this chat, the travelers gained a sense of her amicability; she was not quarrelsome as they may have expected, simply of a different culture.


	3. The Stars Call to You

It was not long before everyone had gathered for the procession of Theodred's body to the grave. Mourning the dead held no cultural distinction, Vezely thought, as the grief stricken voice of Eowyn chanted to the wind.

The Golden Hall would be empty that night, save for the king, his niece, the four travelers and two small children who made their way on horseback from a village on Rohan's borders. Gimli and the two children were busy eating, the latter being comforted by Eowyn, who knelt next to them. Aragorn leisurely smoked his pipe, while Legolas preferred to stand, leaning against one of the great hall's pillars with his arms crossed and his eyes fixed forward. Vezely kept quiet at the table, observing those around her as her hands gripped the edge of the bench she sat on. She had already been introduced by Gandalf as "Vez," a messenger from the East, not wanting to unnecessarily burden the king with her identity. Vezely knew what deed Gandalf must commit to now - Theodon must be persuaded to go to war.

Eowyn listened to the children tell their story, and echoed the words to the room, "They had no warning. They were unarmed. Now the Wildmen are moving through the Westfold, burning as they go, every rick, cot and tree." Aragorn exchanged a glance with Legolas, knowing this verified the information Vezely provided them all the evening before.

Gandalf continued this plight, "This is but a taste of the terror that Saruman will unleash. All the more potent for he is driven mad by the fear of Sauron." His eyes glanced briefly at Vezely, thinking of her own dealings with Sauron.

 _Driven mad in your eyes, perhaps, but not by fear_ , she thought darkly of her past relations.

"Ride out and meet him head on," Gandalf coaxed him carefully, "Draw him away from your women and children. You must fight."

Aragorn then added humbly, hoping to help the cause, "You have two thousand good men riding north as we speak. Eomer is loyal to you. His men will return and fight for their king."

Despondent, Theoden rejected this notion, "They will be three hundred leagues from here by now! Eomer cannot help us…I know what is that you want of me. But I would not bring further death to my people. I will not risk open war."

"Open war is upon you, whether would risk it or not," Aragorn stated strongly, a truism which couldn't be denied.

But Theoden took offense to being undermined, "When last I looked, Theoden, not Aragorn, was king of Rohan."

Gimli's sudden belch broke the tension allowing Gandalf to continue, "Then what is the king's decision?"

…The decision to relocate to Helm's Deep set things in motion, causing the entire household and surrounding village into action in order to leave by morning's first light. As Vezely passed through the Golden Hall, she encountered Eowyn, who was busy going through trunks of items, preparing as everyone else to leave from Edoras.

"You are well armed for a woman," Eowyn called out to Vezely as she passed by. "If you don't mind me asking…Is it true, that Easterling women fight alongside the men?"

Vezely turned toward the shield maiden finding in her eyes a great curiosity, for it was indeed rare to see a woman brandishing weaponry so freely in her land. "Yes, it is true. From childhood, Easterlings are trained to fight. To protect one's home by wielding a sword, it matters not what is in between your legs, but what is in here." She pressed her hand to her heart before looking down into the trunk Eowyn stood by, seeing a sword and acknowledging it as hers. She smiled inside, sensing Eowyn held a hidden desire to prove herself in battle. Vezely picked up the sword and extended it to Eowyn, who grabbed it by the handle. "It's man's world, Eowyn," Vezely continued, "Not because it should be, but because we let them have it."

Eowyn couldn't help but agree with the woman warrior from the East. After sharing a confiding smile, she would then practice its swing and feel its weight again.  _It's a man's world_ , Eowyn thought,  _Not because it should be…_

Vezely exited the back of the hall and stood on the terrace overlooking the expanses of land just beginning to be illuminated by the morning sun. But more so, it was the stars that called her. Their presence, all too soon to be hushed by the sun, exuded a calmness she needed even more recently.

Legolas also stood on the terrace, observing her from afar, uncomfortably curious of this Elf from the East whose story of rebirth eluded him.

* * *

The journey to Helm's Deep was slow, made ever more difficult by the villagers, young and old, who moved slowly through the rough terrain and rocky, rolling hills surrounding Edoras. Legolas scouted up front, ahead of the line, while Aragorn requested Vezely to scout the back, much to the displeasure of two scouts that Thoedon had already requested go in that direction. Undoubtedly they would be tracked and there was a high possibility of being attacked. Aragorn did not tell Theodon of his reasoning for sending Vezely, whose eyes outmatched all but Legolas's. He would keep Vezely's identity a secret as per Gandalf's request, one which he reminded her again of before he took off to find Eomer and the Rohirrim.

As Vezely rode to the back of the line of villagers and soldiers, Theodon remarked wondering, "I would not expect to be in such company in this age, or any past," referring to their group's Easterling companion. "How is it that you travel with an Easterling?"

Aragorn could sense Theodon's strong distrust of the woman's origins. "She is of the resistance of free men around the Sea of Rhun," Aragorn replied calmly, hoping to not stir any worry.

"Free or not, the people of Rhun cannot be trusted," Theodon declared resolutely; speaking a mantra of his people whose dark past with the inhabitants to the East was not forgotten.

Aragorn shifted in his horse slightly.

"History cannot dictate every obstacle we come across," Eowyn interjected optimistically before Aragorn could reply; having found respect for the woman warrior through their brief conversation just prior. The pale skinned woman walked in large strides alongside her uncle's horse, smiling up at him, which made his concern momentarily melt into a smile back at her. "If we cannot trust those that Gandalf trusts, then hope is truly lost," she added.

Aragorn nodded to the maiden, and then remarked, "She is a skilled warrior and rider, here of her own will and with Gandalf's blessing."

"I do not doubt Gandalf," Theodon replied, looking forward again, "It is yet another twist of the fateful direction this world is heading."

Aragorn could sense the meaning history held for Theodon and his kin, one which Easterlings held a tarnished place and Vezely a demon within it.

Vezely kept her distance from the group, keeping ever on the outskirts, watching the travelers snake across the land, peering with her keen Elf eyes across the stretches they departed from. There, her memories collided into vivid recollections of her past at the helm of a vast army of Balchoth who descended on those hills intent on destroying whoever stood in their path. It was neither the first nor the last battle she fought or fields she pillaged, but the last one to the West of Rhovanion. She was again that black figure on the landscape; a true outsider. Her presence was even more uncanny than her fellow Elf and Dwarf among the mass of Rohan's villagers who have only encountered Easterlings in their stores - as villains, as king slayers.

She had heard of the encampment of Helm's Deep, cut into a mountain side, a strong fortification but one without easy escape. _Would war find its way there?_  She wondered as Gizik galloped her closer to the travelers who began settling into an encampment as the sun turned down.

She carefully led her horse by the reigns through the mass of weary villagers who were sitting in small groups, with some starting fires, and others fetching pots to prepare for their long overdue meal. Vezely felt the brief stares of many eyes as she passed by and whispers of curiosity hit her cloaked ears. She approached Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas, who had also found a place to rest on the rocky outcropping.

She nodded to the group in greeting, Gizik trailing close behind her. "I will refresh Gizik and return to keep watch on the East overnight," she declared her plan calmly, "So far the lands have been quiet."

"You should also take rest," Aragorn replied politely, as they were at that moment sharing a hot meal of modest stew.

Vezely smiled slightly at the gesture but declined. "I am not weary," she spoke with her eyes remaining forward, hoping not to betray her troubled thoughts. And without another word, she continued on to feed Gizik.

Legolas could sense her unease as she walked off.

"Our people call her  _Nwalmaer_ ," Legolas spoke to his friends after she had left.

"Tormented one," Aragorn translated the Elvish title.

After nodding he explained, "Sauron's hatred coursed through her, I could see it in her eyes the day she left Mirkwood. For our kind, to have one's light completely overrun…"

"Is unthinkable," Aragorn finished as his words trailed off.

"I would suspect the title still holds," Legolas added with mild concern, not knowing if his non-Elf companions could sense her emotions.

Gimli spoke, stirring the Elf from his thoughts, "Tell me, why would your father simply let her leave?"

"She bargained her way out, her life for another's," Legolas replied after a moment remembering again the day she awoke from her healing sleep; she had taken hostage the healer who had nursed her wounds, pressing a knife against her neck, drawing blood and dismay from the one who hoped to heal her. "I do not know if the same force steadied my hand on my bowstring as urged my father to simply let her go."

"There is still much we do not know," Aragorn added diplomatically, "In time, the situation will make more sense."

Legolas knew this to be true, but his curiosity prompted him to overcome his previous reservations and engage in conversation with the woman. For if he would grow to trust her, he needed to know more about her.

* * *

Leaving her horse to feed with the others, Vezely walked to the edge of the encampment which was perched on a cliff above a black valley below. She simply wanted to gaze on the bright stars above.

Moments later, a smooth voice came from behind her, "The stars call to you."

She looked at him momentarily to gauge his desire in conversing with her before slowly returning her eyes above. His intent seemed amicable, so she nonchalantly explained the meaning behind her gaze, "The East has been covered in darkness for so long that I began to forget their alignment."

The prospect of forgetting where the stars sat in the sky was hard to fathom for Legolas, for only an occasional cloudy night could cover their presence. With his eyes also fixed above the horizon, he began retelling the story of the first stars. "It is said the first objects elves laid their eyes upon were the stars, so we continue to gaze at them, looking for guidance, perhaps a reminder of our origins and where we'll return…"

Vezely listened intently to his words as he continued, strangely enchanted by the wisdom of this history that she did not know. He spoke poetic and with meaning, revealing that her simple pleasure in their light was an Elven trait; something more than just her ears, vitality, and long life that connected her to his kin. She then looked upon him with wonder in her eyes, but noticing her gaze, he paused, realizing embarrassingly that he had gotten carried away. Storytelling was a favorite pastime of his, though it had been some time since he had told one. "Forgive me," he blurted instinctively, trying to gauge the emotions in her eyes with his own, "You probably desire to be alone."

As he stepped away, Vezely remarked solemnly but forthrightly, "You should not apologize to me, Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood, for it is I who should apologize for the pain I brought your people."

Legolas stopped and turned to her but did not speak. He looked at her curiously, not expecting what she would say.

"I do not ask forgiveness, for I deserve none," she continued resolute, and then removing her eyes from the moonlit landscape to his, she bared her honesty, "But know I feel remorse."

Legolas could sense a history of suffering behind her strong façade. She was young by Elvish standards though she had experienced much in her few centuries here. He could not help but pity slightly. "You have changed," he spoke quietly after a lengthy silence. "I do not sense the same woman who blood bargained her way out of my kingdom."

Vezely smiled inwardly as the same thoughts passed her mind, but change was a strange concept to grasp in regards to her past. But she feared letting too much of her thoughts seep through to the Elf, who she knew was definitely studying her responses. And not desiring the compliment, she brushed it off, "Your father was far too forgiving."

"I would agree," he replied carefully, hoping not to deter her from speaking comfortably, "Though I do not doubt he saw the possibility of today."

"Such prescience," she scoffed disbelievingly, "Or perhaps foolishness."

"My father is many things, a fool not among them," Legolas defended, trying to keep down his tone and refrain from arguing.

"I would return to Rhun to manage Sauron's alliances, force his tributes, build his army," she listed in explanation, before adding lastly, "And take more innocent lives."

"And now you fight to save them," he added, ambiguously asking a question.

Silence followed for a brief moment as Vezely considered his words, but declining a specific reply, she instead inquired, "Tell me. Do Elves know if the stars will ever lose their light?"

It was not a thought fathomed by many for the stars existed before the Elves and they have since dwelt in their light. "All things come to end," he considered steadily, "Even time, which stars are said to stay until the end of." He wondered if there was reason behind her curiosity in this; could she be referring to whether her own light had diminished. "But until then," he continued looking at the side of her face as she kept it turned from him, "Their light remains, even if behind a veil of darkness."

His last words forced her gaze to his, and she considered his meaning while staring into his deep blue eyes which held equal intensity as her own. But before a response could be gathered and spoken, a man of wide girth and long beard stumbled nearby, burping obscenities while lighting a wooden pipe.

"I retire," Legolas tilted his head down courteously, knowing their words need not have local eavesdroppers. "Perhaps we could continue this conversation another time?"

Vezely simply nodded as an affirmative response, but a small smile unexpectedly found its way to her face as the fair Elf left her side. She felt strangely comforted by having conversed with a former enemy; with one of her own race. And while the fires of Mordor continued to burn over the horizon, the stars' light anchored her gaze away from them.

Legolas was left notably confused by their conversation, for she was quick to annoyance, though he sensed a desire to reserve her feelings above all. But then he recalled the feeling of her wonder-filled eyes on his as he spoke about the stars and it also comforted him; for it left him certain that the light of Eldar had not abandoned her.


	4. Scars and Wargs

The morning light was met by the king's guards urging the weary villagers from their resting places to their feet. Vezely jumped on top of Gizik and rode swiftly to the back of the line, followed by the two other scouts who had been on watch with her the previous day. The burlier one of them galloped his steed nearby, cutting off Gizik intentionally and giving Vezely an marked stare while his companion followed him after with a similar expression on his face.

Vezely returned their gaze through narrowed eyes.

"Women doing men's jobs, no wonder the Easterlings could never take our lands," he joked to his companion while yet in earshot of Vezely.

She followed behind them saying nothing, being terribly bored of men's insecurities on account of her gender.

The day continued quietly and Vezely kept her eyes fixed on the horizon behind them, ready to alert the king if any attack was imminent. Her companions continued their banter, throwing her stares from time to time, though she was content to ignore them.

Awareness of the oncoming warg attack hit Vezely's ears quickly and she immediately called to the two scouts, "We're under attack!" They didn't believe her until a wave of commotion traveled down the line of villagers who had begun panicking.

Vezely kicked Gizik into high gear, galloping forward toward the king and his guard. The two other scouts followed her lead, also kicking their horses into gear. She heard Theodon call all riders to the front of the column, commanding his niece Eowyn to continue to lead the villagers on to Helm's Deep.

She drove Gizik hard, reaching the others as they took off. She could see Legolas standing upon the far ridge, his bow angled high, releasing an arrow to its deadly task.

Vezely unsheathed her blade, relishing its feel in her hand again and consumed by her love of battle that had been bred into her by the Balchoth. She pointed her sword in front of her, her other hand on Gizik's reign, waiting for the collision of sides.

Bred brave and fast, Gizik had no trouble dodging out of the wargs' way but wary of their bite, Vezely jumped from Gizik onto the back of one of the foul creatures, slicing the throat of the Orc upon it and grabbing its reigns. This was not the first time she had ridden a warg.

"Da clomp!" she commanded the creature in crude Orc language, instantly turning it on its companion's riders. The warg responded steadfastly to her words, sensing her maturity as a rider, submitting to her will and reigning terror at her command.

In the midst of fighting, a spear hailed from afar hit the side of her beast, stopping it in its tracks. Leaping from its side and somersaulting softly to her feet, a feat that betrayed her human disguise, Vezely took the disadvantaged ground position. She caught a glimpse of the spear thrower; it was none other than her former scout companion. Sheathing her sword, she retrieved her sai from her boot's holders. The oncoming warg quickly found the thin blade in the side of it skull as she dodged its bite; the rider would find the other sas lodged into his gut, for the quick motion allowed her other hand to deliver an equally deadly jab.

The battle was winding down and the Rohirrim were finishing off the last of the riders who were attempting to save their skins by fleeing. Vezely then crossed paths with the scout, finding him retrieving his spear from the fallen warg she had been riding. Quickly turning, the man pointed the spear at her throat, "You are a witch!" he spat, "Riding that beast like second nature."

"Are you suicidal?" Vezely taunted sarcastically, a smirk on her face as her eyes were fixed on his to gauge his next move. Such a gesture would have quickly warranted death any other time, but she had to hold her ground in the current company.

Along with others, King Theodon took notice of the commotion, "What is the meaning of this? Ridar, speak!" He yelled from atop his white horse.

"She commanded this warg with foul tongue my lord. She is a witch," Ridar replied holding his chin slight higher but not removing the position of his spear.

"And she killed the enemy by doing so. Stand down!" Theodon commanded his guard, who immediately heeded his words and relaxed his spear.

Vezely's smirked slightly, she couldn't help but be amused by this man's easy defeat.

"Aragorn?" the company then overheard Legolas's call from afar, turning their attention from the previous commotion. Before galloping to where Aragorn and Gimli was stationed, Theodon cautioned Vezely, "I will deal with this later," knowing the situation was not yet resolved. Vezely nodded respectfully before he left.

"I'll be watching you," Ridar warned her further.

Vezely whistled with her two fingers to the wind; a signal for Gizik, who quickly returned to her side, after which she lept effortlessly onto the horse's back. "I hope for your sake, you are quick when you strike," she replied before kicking Gizik's sides to follow the king.

She would find Legolas and Gimli shell shocked at the apparent loss of Aragorn, with Theodon commanding they leave the dead and continue on. She was also at a loss for words, sensing the anguish of her two companions who lost a dear friend, and bearing the reality of losing a man who held rank and promise among the world of Free Men. She kept her distance from the scene, not interfering, nor knowing how to console if she did. Instead, she heeded Theodon's commands to aid the wounded and prepare them for the continued journey to the fortress.

Surveying the land, she found a soldier gasping for air, for his lung had collapsed from a side knife wound. He was coughing on his own blood and if left untreated, he would surely die from suffocation. Another soldier was by his side, applying pressure to his wound.

Assessing the situation, she stated assuredly "I need to cut a hole in your throat to allow you to breathe easier."

"You will do what?"The dismay of the soldier was apparent. This Easterling would surely kill his friend if given the chance, he thought.

Instead of responding, she grabbed the goat skin canteen off of him and cut the straw-like end off to act as a stopper and passageway for air. Placing a hand on the fallen soldier's forehead, she said softly, "You will need to be still." He immediately calmed down despite his difficulty breathing. Using a small knife, she quickly did the deed, inserting the straw and commanding the fallen soldier to breathe. Air suddenly could fill his one lung with ease, and though labored he was no longer choking and in risk of dying from lack of air.

"Arman!" The man cried his friend's name, relieved.

"This will need to be changed regularly until he heals," she said to him, "Transport him carefully."

The man was at a loss for words, "How?"

"I have seen similar wounds," she replied indifferent before leaving to assist others.

* * *

Entering the gates of the fortress of Helm's Deep, Vezely felt uncomfortable and caged in. If a battle did find them, it would be the first time she would have to fight from inside closed walls.

Gimli felt it was his duty to inform the Lady Eowyn of Aragorn's death while Legolas, stricken with grief, left the present company. The wounded were transported to willing hands - the infirmary having been fully stocked and prepared for the arrival of the injured, thanks to Eowyn. Vezely desired to survey the surroundings, though she also wondered where Legolas was, for she felt oddly concerned about his condition after losing Aragorn.

Before leaving the medical ward, she was approached by an elderly woman. "Miss? Are you wounded?" Vezely was covered in blood, both orc and human, the latter from assisting the wounded on the battlefield.

"I am not harmed," she replied with some politeness, hoping to quickly bypass the woman and be on her way.

"Come," the old woman abrasively took Vezely by the arm, "We can at least allow you to wash up and rest," she then not to gently led her up the steps to a small empty room with rinse basins and a few cots.

"If I had to guess, you are from the East," the woman stated with cheerful repose, guiding her to a cot to sit down.

"You would be correct," Vezely replied uninterested in chit chat, though she wondered how the woman could maintain such a demeanor considering the situation. She removed her sword and sai, and placed them on the ground beneath the cot, along with her rucksack, which she took from Gizik before she was taken to the stables.

The old woman fetched a water jug and filled two shallow basins that sat on the low table next to the cot. Dipping a fresh linen cloth into it and wringing it out, she proceeded to wash Vezely's face of the dirt and blood, desiring to double check that they were not her wounds.

"Your skin is very pale my child," she mused while dipping the linen in the water, "I have not seen such pale skin nor expected it on an Easterling, who I thought were of darker complexions."

Vezely smiled slightly rather than saying anything, notably uncomfortable being taken care of and not having the proper social etiquette to respectfully get out of it. The old her would not have let this woman touch her. Yet when the woman's hand went to remove Vezely's head covering, her fast reflexes grabbed the woman's wrist a little too tightly.

Loosening her grip carefully, she said with a slight smile, "Gratitude, but I can take it from here."

The old woman maintained her polite concern, "Alright my dear, you should be left alone for these quarters are currently unoccupied." She then exited the door, much to the relief of Vezely.

Rolling up the sleeves of her jacket and untying the fabric wrappings around her wrists, Vezely proceeded to wash her hands of the dried blood and dirt. The cool water felt refreshing against her skin and she closed her eyes while massaging her wrists under the water. Her wrists bore scars, wounds that never fully healed and ached from time to time.

"I heard you saved one of the king's guard today," the familiar voice slightly startled her, and she did not know how long he had been in the room. Elves were exceedingly quiet, unlike men, and despite her keen hearing she had not grown accustomed to his sounds, or lack there of.

"And almost killed another," she retorted dryly, referring to the scout incident and trying to tone down any impressiveness associated with lending aid. She quickly grabbed a linen cloth to dry her hands, for she desired to unroll her sleeves and cover her scars from view.

But Legolas had already seen them. Reaching where she sat, he gently took her wrists and held them up in the palm of his hands. His thumbs softly grazed over the scars as he inspected them, afterwards finding Vezely's confused eyes searching his own for answers to his disbelief.

"How did you come by these?" He asked noticeably concerned, for scars to remain on an elf was uncommon,if not unheard of.

She removed her eyes from his while also removing her wrists from his grasp, gripping her right wrist in her left hand, still aware of the feeling his prior touch gave. It took her a moment before she could speak, "You know of my imprisonment in Dol Guldur?" she asked calmly, waiting for his response, but it appeared he was unaware. Legolas then sat down next to her on the cot, placing his hands on his knees awaiting her explanation.

"The centuries following my return from Northern Mirkwood, I continued my charge as Sauron's vassal, aiding in building his army and maintaining order across the provinces held under his dominion. I thought perhaps I overstepped in my leadership, or Sauron grew tired of his experiment, or maybe he found my second in command more easily controlled," her voice betrayed a lingering anger for the man, "I am not certain. But my army revolted against me and I was taken to Dol Guldur. These scars remain." She held up her wrists.

"How long were you in captivity?" He asked carefully, for her scars appeared substantial.

"Half a life of man," she stated quietly and Legolas closed his eyes in distress, unable to fathom such a length of imprisonment, even for Elves who had seen many ages pass. But Vezely could not bear to let him garner such emotions on her account. She clasped her hand on his wrist, her unexpected touch causing him to turn his eyes to hers.

"I did not despair…and Aragorn did not fall in vain. When the battle finds us, it will be met with a better cause for blood," she declared resolutely, showing she was not one to hold to sorrow.

He found some comfort in her determination and soaked it in mentally while looking into her eyes, finding there strength.

Gimli approached the entrance to witness their closeness, though he did not have the heart to comment in his usual candor. Instead, he quietly made his way to a cot nearby, placing his axe and helmet aside.

During this time, Vezely slowly let go of his wrist, realizing her touch lingered slightly.

Legolas and Gimli greeted each other with a small nod, silently communicating their shared grief, and they would spend the next few hours in weary contemplation. Sitting cross legged on the ground in Easterling fashion, Vezely cleaned her sword of orc blood and honed its blade; the task did much to ease her mind of their current predicament.

When commotion from outside and the call of, "Open the gates!" hit their ears, it was Legolas who first rose and exited, sensing something the other two could only hope for. Vezely turned her gaze to Gimli, and found he had the same curious wonder on his face as her.

Then they heard someone shout, "Lord Aragorn returns!" and Gimli's eyes went wide, "It can't be, it can't be!" he shouted his hopeful disbelief before following in Legolas's path. Such a turn of events was greatly welcomed at such a time of diminished hope.

After Legolas and Gimli greeted Aragorn, Vezely also provided the man a respectful bow of the head, "I did not think you would be killed so easily," she remarked with a sly smile, which Aragorn returned with a faint laugh.

"Come," Aragorn then urged his friends to follow him, "There is important business to discuss with the king."


	5. Submission

Entering the keep's great hall, they found King Theodon seated on an unembellished throne, his head guard stationed next to him. On his route there, Aragorn had witnessed a great host of Uruk-khai marching from Isengard; they would arrive by nightfall, 10,000 strong.

"Let them come." Theodon arose steadfast and sure from his seat and quickly exited the great hall, commanding his troops to prepare to bear arms and defend the Deep. His only hope came from history - that no one had breached the wall or set foot inside the Hornburg.

Following the king as he made his rounds from station to station, Aragorn and Gimli tried to talk sense into the man, explaining the strength of Uruk-hai and the need to call for aid.

"And who will come?" Theodon queried slightly angered by the request, "Elves? Dwarves? Strangers from the East? We are not so lucky in our friends as you. The old alliances are dead."

"Gondor will answer," Aragorn replied assuredly.

"Gondor? Where was Gondor when the Westfold fell? Where was Gondor when our enemies closed in around us!?...Where was Gon… No, my Lord Aragorn, we are alone," turning his back on Aragorn he commanded Gamling, "Get the women and children into the caves."

The trusted guard replied concerned, "We need more time to lay provisions for a siege, lord…"

"There is no time. War is upon us!"

Vezely had remained quiet, for not wanting to overstep her bounds. He had to rule his people, not have an Easterling outsider interfere. If she would share her concerns, she would do so to Aragorn only. As preparations began unfolding, she quietly mentioned to Aragorn, "If they have the blasting powder, these walls can be brought down." She was concerned, for it was being used more extensively in Rhunic warfare.

"Such powder has not yet been used in war this far West," Aragorn replied quietly to her, hoping to calm her fears.

But Theodon's ears were susceptible to all that flowed from this Easterling woman's mouth since the warg incident. "What is this blasting powder you speak of?" he commanded her to tell him.

Looking at Aragorn apologetically, Vezely pulled a small pouch hidden underneath her jacket and pinching a very fine portion of its contents, she displayed it to him in her palm. It looked no more than chips of black rock. Closing to make a fist, she threw it on a nearby torch, igniting the flame outward and blowing the metal from its base.

Shock filled those around them and many wondered whether she was a witch instead of a woman, Theodon included. The fear of the oncoming battle allowed thoughts of anger and deceit quickly overrun him. "Riding wargs, black magic…Who are you? What is your purpose? You are not some ordinary woman from Rhun, tell me!"

Knowing it was time, Vezely slowly removed her headscarf to reveal her race. Theodon's eyes narrowed, noting she was Elf-kind but not yet drawing on the reason of its secrecy.

"My purpose is not deceit but my identity has not been true," Vezely spoke firmly, "My name is Vezely, some know me as the dark elf witch of Balchoth and the hand of Sauron at Dol Guldur. To your people, I am the slayer of Eorl the Young, the first King of Rohan."

"Vezely of the Balchoth," Theodon mouthed her name as emotion drained from his face, he felt as if he was looking upon a mythical demon. Stun was also visible on the faces of those who had surrounded them, whose numbers had grown, being drawn there by the small explosion just prior.

Standing unashamed by the reaction, she continued, "I am willing to submit to the price of waging war on these lands and for breaking the terms of my banishment from the West." This was a death sentence. Unsheathing her sword, causing concern to some nearby, she immediately went down on her knees and held her sword out above her horizontally in the palms of her hands in an act of total submission. "But I return to fight for you King Theodon, for Rohan, for the people of Middle Earth. With your pardon, I ask that you allow me to defend Helm's Deep. Sauron is my enemy as he is yours."

It took several moments for Theodon to fully register the situation. He took Vezely's sword slowly and held it in front of him, feeling its balanced weight and observing its engraved markings of ancient Rhun Sanskrit. Vezely put the palms of her hands on the cold stone floor in front of her, tilted her head down and kept her eyes fixed downward, her neck displayed to the king if it came to that. It was hard to simply let go, but she had to, there was no other way.

"You brought war to these lands," he spoke beside himself still observing her sword and thinking of its wielder's past, her deeds against his ancestors. "The stories of you speak of pain, destruction, death…" He touched the cold, sharp blade to the back of her neck, appearing as if he was testing where it would be most effective to strike. Then he saw her missing ear tip and wondered whether the years had really treated her any kinder than death would.

Legolas watched with an ever-growing knot in his stomach, quietly breathing in the cool air in an attempt to settle a desire to aid her; from where such a desire came he did not know. Was it simply pity for one of his race? Aragorn who stood aside him placed a hand on his shoulder for reassurance for he did not believe it would come to that.

"But through this we became stronger, and Rohan rose to its glory. You did not destroy us, they will not destroy us now," A fire built in Theodon's eyes and voice, again finding strength for his people, "Rise Vez of Rhun," purposely using the name Gandalf addressed her to him as. "Rohan welcomes your aid."

Looking up, Vezely was greeted by her sword handle which she gratefully accepted. After sheathing it with one stroke, she nodded respectfully to King Theodon, pressing her fist to her chest, as he was still taking in the weight of his decision, hoping he did not mistake her sincerity.

"I will not disappoint," Vezely declared firmly as Theodon searched her face, finding it odd that the fabled demon bore a façade of Elvish youth. He wondered, reviewing history, if as she killed the first king of Rohan, she would also witness the death of its last.

"Secure the gates!" Theodon yelled after turning away, again setting in motion the occupants of the great fortress.

Vezely felt liberated and the cool air felt anew as it blew through her short hair. She was free to follow the path she set on in truth even if such a battle was imminent and death certain. But she did not let these thoughts cloud her desire to move through the present with renewed purpose.

"You got yourself out of that one lass," Gimli added slightly relieved, for he also felt tense during the exchange.

Vezely nodded thoughtfully at him, and then she briefly looked at Legolas, and through their eyes they smiled at each other, for he was also grateful for Theodon's graciousness and for her ability to allow such a decision to be made. It proved to him a little further that she had changed.

Aragorn also gave her a reassuring nod before adding concerned, "That powder is not to be used lightly."

She agreed, "I have only a small amount, to be wielded only in dire circumstances."

...The able bodied men would be ordered to the armory, the women and children to the caves. The four of them would be swept along with the mass of people, trying to keep the flow ordered and attempting to judge proper siege tactics.

"The greatest number of the enemy needs to fall before the wall is breached. Archers should be stationed all along here and here," Vezely pointed her fingers.

Aragorn agreed, "We'll place the reserves along the wall. They can support the archers from above the gate."

She nodded astutely, overtly cheered by battle banter. For all who were raised the Balchoth way, the feeling of approaching war gave quite a positive rush; not to mention it was familiar to her. "And those catapults need to be angled slightly higher," she considered as her eyes narrowed, examining them from afar.

After she marched off in that direction, Aragorn said amused despite his weariness, "She seems right at home."

"Easterlings love war as a bee loves honey," Gimli scoffed instantly.

Legolas however was worried for his friend's condition, "Aragorn, you must rest, you are no use to us half-alive." He had not yet recovered from his fall into the ravine.

Before responding, Eowyn would approach Aragorn asking his permission to fight, of which he could not offer the response she desired. He turned away from her and with Gimli and Legolas, they made their way to the armory.

Having confirmed the equipments' readiness, Vezely, who was also on her way to the armory, ran into Eowyn.

"It is true then," the fair haired woman noted upon seeing Vezely's ears, "You are the king slayer from long ago."

Vezely sensed hurt in Eowyn's eyes, not from this information, but from another incident. "I am sorry to have deceived you," Vezely replied carefully, unsure of her emotions.

"I am glad you fight for us," Eowyn replied graciously, "If only I could do the same."

She knew Eowyn would be relegated to the caves, a position demeaning to any with a warrior heart. "The fight may still find you, and in that moment, your valor will be unquestioned. Keep your sword close." She placed a hand on top of Eowyn's shoulder for reassurance, reminding her of her strength, and ability to wait out the night.

The armory was crowded. Axes, swords, shields, and spears were being passed around to all with empty hands. Before the entrance, Vezely overheard the raised voices of her companions and the Elvish exchange of Legolas and Aragorn, ending in Aragorn walking off and Legolas ashamed of his approach.

 _Three-hundred to ten-thousand_ , she repeated the numbers Legolas stated in her head; the odds were truly against them. She waited a moment before entering, hoping the commotion would resume so her presence would not cause more tension.

After entering, she noticed Legolas had already taken leave by another entrance and only Gimli remained. Her presence, however, caused another silence to seep through the hall and those in her way quickly parted her path for fear of offense. They held a mixture of fear and awe of her, for all knew the stories of Rohan's beginning, all had been told about the battle of the Wold and the daemon usurper Vezely of the Balchoth who killed their first king on the battlefield.

For a moment, Vezely felt in command of them, for her army always elicited a similar response to her presence, but she reminded herself, this was not the past and such behavior was not out of respect.

She greeted Gimli silently, and he took her by the arm, "Come lass, we should not continue to interrupt them."

They exited several rooms over, though it was also filled with weapons for which the main armory had no room; many appeared discarded due to age and style. Vezely found a line of old long bows which horsemen often had no need for, due to preferring the portability and ease of a short bow. Knowing her sword skill would be of no use until the walls were breached, she searched the row for one whose wood was not rotted and string still taut.

"I am going to see if they have any proper armor," Gimli declated determined, after looking through shelves of long daggers; leaving Vezely to her task.

Legolas was in the next room and entered to find Vezely testing a bow string. "Do you even know how to use one?" He asked somewhat cockily, trying to elicit a more cheerful response; he needed levity in the current situation.

Vezely smirked and replied in a similar manner, "Well enough. Of course, it is not my weapon of choice. I like the enemy to see my face before I take their life."

He took the bow from her hand, and also tested it, pulling its string and feeling its weight. "This will not do," he added confidently, putting it back in the pile. He ran his fingers down the line of bows, gauging them from the color and feel of their wood. Vezely stood there admiring his gracefulness. He moved differently than men, he moved differently than her; he moved like an Elf. It is said Elves perfect their movements during their long lives, to make every move a dance that flows with the air, not against it. Vezely was not as such being raised by men.

"This one," he pulled a bow from near the end of the pile, offering it to Vezely who noted it looked no different from the others.

She tested it and felt the strength of its string and its balanced weight. Legolas watched as she did this, noting the movement of her fingers on the string, her stance, it was not Elf-like, despite her blood. He noted his strange interest in the details of these differences, and how they offered him an odd attraction.

She smiled at him, pleased with its feel, "Gratitude, this will do nicely."

He nodded with a half-smile, for he continued to feel despair from the impending battle and for those who would go needlessly to their deaths.

She did not want to let on that she had heard his previous conversation with Aragorn, though his demeanor confirmed that he remained troubled; made worse now by speaking brashly to a friend.

"The odds are against us," he spoke carefully, looking at the weaponry lining the side walls.

"Yes, they are," she agreed, straightening her posture and feeling the wood of the bow with her fingers, then she spoke these words steadily, "Strength in time of darkness, courage in time of fear, death to those who oppose you."

Legolas looked at her confused.

She explained, "They are the words of my clan, the meaning of the markings on my back. No matter the odds, strength, courage…"

"Death," Legolas finished.

"But not your own," she added quickly with a small smile, "Not tonight." A moment later, Vezely held the bow up and adding assuredly, "A bow is no use without arrows."

He felt somewhat reassured by her calmness; and he knew it was necessary to apologize to Aragorn. He could not enter this battle on bad terms with a close friend. He nodded to her statement, telling her, "The armory should be nearly empty by now," noting the far rooms had fallen silent as men were reporting to their battle stations, "But perhaps there will be some left."

She followed him to the armory's main keep to gather what arrows they could find. The room's contents had been considerably picked through and the weapons left were scattered to and fro. Handing her the bunch he collected, Legolas did not let go of them right away. He asked, slightly concerned about the power of Uruk-hai, "Do you have armor?" Having already added some light leather armor to his outfit and noticing Vezely had not. He knew he often treated his companions like children, and even if she was centuries older than the others, he felt just as responsible for her safety.

She was amused slightly by his concern, especially for someone so battle weary like herself. Vezely admittedly had not traveled with much armor from home, for not wanting to burden Gizik with unnecessary weight during their journey; although she did have a set of shoulder guards and gauntlets for her wrists, which she left in her rucksack in their temporary quarters. "I will need to retrieve them, though I have fought in considerably less," she said amused, causing him slight embarrassment, not knowing what exactly she meant by less.

She made her way to their quarters where they previously mourned the supposed loss of Aragorn to find her rucksack still hidden under the cot. Legolas would go to find Aragorn and apologize for his abrupt words from earlier. After attaching the shoulder guards and gauntlets, she also retrieved a piece of coal and a small mirror from the same bag. While further defining the outlines of her eyes in black, a necessary Easterling practice before any battle, Vezely heard a horn blast from outside the walls, but the sound was definitely not from the head of an orc army; it was like no horn she had ever heard. She made her way down the stairwell and over to the main courtyard, witnessing an grand troop of Elves, cloaked in gray and holding long bows, entering the gate in perfect unison. Their captain, who greeted King Theodon as he stood shocked by their appearance, was a regal-looking blonde Elf cloaked in red and armored in gold.

Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas had quickly rushed to meet Haldir; knowing the horn's sound all too well. Aragorn embraced the Elf, as did Legolas, whose face exuded immense pride as he turned to stand with his kin in this new alliance of Elves and Men; his spirit noticeably uplifted.

Vezely apprehensively stayed back, preferring to witness this interaction from atop the steps. She had not seen so many Elves since her short stay in Mirkwood so long ago and she had never witnessed the unmatched precision of a marching Elven army. They moved even more perfectly than the Easterling militia did, she thought in envy. She moved slowly down the steps towards them; she hoped to pass unnoticed but unavoidably drew movement and stares from soldiers who could not help but look upon her. The minor commotion caused Haldir's eyes to shift in her direction.

" _Nwalmaer_  (tormented one)," the Elf's face remained stoic and poised as he greeted Vezely by her Elf-given name, one which the Blue Wizards acquainted her with and continued on occasion to call her by. He lightly placed the palm of his hand over his heart before bringing it forward. "I also bring greeting from Lord Elrond. He welcomes home the taken child of Eluréd, blood of his blood."

Vezely had learned of her Elven father's name from Morinehtar and Romestamo, but despite all attempts to remember her childhood before being taken by orcs, she could not. Her only remembrance was her mother's voice singing a song expressing sorrow for autumn's end. It haunted her dreams and she had only recently pieced together the lyric's meanings with her study of the language.

After a brief moment, she replied politely, "Lord Elrond continues to be most kind," while placing a fist on her chest and tilting her head down to Haldir, an Easterling greeting. Noticeably the name of her cousin brought warmth to her heart, for it was Elrond who allowed her to be "home." Though she had never met him, she learned it was his foresight that had him call upon the White Council to aid in her release from captivity at Dol Guldur and for the Blue Wizards to assist in her recovery. She considered him her protector from afar and the only reason she was given a second chance.

Neither Legolas, Aragorn, nor Gimli knew of Lord Elrond's involvement, or even that Vezely was aware of who he was, yet the story would have to wait on account of the pending attack.

King Theodon commanded his troops to their posts, and Aragorn and Haldir stationed the Elf bowmen to the Deeping Wall and the Deep behind it.

"Vez," Theodon yelled amidst the movement, "You fight aside me."

Vezely nodded in affirmation to Theodon, who turned to make his way to atop the main gate. She was unsure of his reasoning to have her nearby, for she had expected to be stationed on the Deeping Wall with her companions. Aragorn suspected having Vezely by his side provided some historical resonance for Theodon and could prompt morale for his troops - the awe of him commanding an infamous historical figured perhaps.

"Keep their archers steady," Aragorn commanded her warmly, bringing a hand to her sidearm in a gesture of confidence, though it also held the possibility of farewell.

"Perched high and pretty," Gimli joked, "We'll try to save some for you lass."

Vezely responded with a jovial smile, "I am not good at waiting for a fight." She placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a brief grip.

Her face became more serious when she turned to Legolas, who looked at her intensely, "Not your own," he stated, repeating a line she shared with him in the armory earlier.

Vezely instantly replied with the same seriousness, "Not tonight." They locked eyes for a moment longer, exchanging a longing to have more conversations, to get to know each other better than these few days allowed. It was strange that such pure longings could occur amongst two unlikely souls and during such dire times.

On her walk through the corridors and up the steps to the top of the main gate, Vezely mentally prepared herself for the battle. The air was damp and she could sense that rain was imminent. Fitting, she thought, as the night would simultaneously bring and wash away the blood.


	6. Defending the Deep

Reaching the king's station, Vezely nodded in deference to the king and quietly took her place next to Gamling. All eyes were fixed on the approaching Uruk-khai, a great black mass on the landscape. The sound of their footsteps and rustling of their armor grew louder with each passing moment. The surrounding soldiers were silent for the sight in front of them was surreal and many needed to remind themselves to continue breathing.

Vezely felt eager anticipation of the impending battle, her hand aching to swing her blade, her mind desiring to outpace and outmatch her opponents. As the crescendo of Uruk war cry overwhelmed the Deep, it was met with fear. She detested it; for Easterling militia such fear was not acceptable. Instead, her men would be producing an equally powerful presence. But she had to remind herself, most of these men had never seen war, had never held a weapon, or seen a man being violently killed.

The rain burst from the clouds above, soaking all and muffling the sound of the Uruk-khai with the splatters and dings of water hitting stone, shield, and flesh. Upon command, she stepped forward with her long bow, grateful she had chosen this weapon over the shorter versions, since her distance was considerably farther from target than where she thought she'd be positioned. She awaited Theodon's orders, while overhearing Aragorn cry orders in Elvish down below.

An older man below her released his arrow before the command, killing an Uruk and causing an angered roar from the horde; instantly sending chills down the spines of the defenders in the Deep. They began charging the wall. Gamling cried out a resounding "Fire!"

As she continued to rain arrows, she noticed how each release increased in precision and speed, finding her remembrance of the weapon slowly return. But as the ladders began rising and Uruks poured over the Deeping Wall, her desire for hand-to-hand combat also increased.

A mass of shielded Uruks were encroaching on the gates below. "The gate, focus on the gate!" She cried down to the nearby bowmen, who promptly turned their attention that way. Aragorn followed her cries, turning some of his bowmen to the task.

At the Deeping Wall, the Elves were holding back the incoming Uruks, who were being cut down one by one; many were meeting Gimli's axe before they had even descended the ladder.

Vezely overheard Theodon murmur, "Is this it? Is this all you can conjure, Saruman?"

If it was, surely the battle would be won, for they would be able to maintain a steady demolishing of Uruks, evening the odds for when they would inevitably breach the fortress.

But suddenly an explosion rocked the Deeping Wall, causing stone, dust, and flesh to blow meters into the sky only to come crashing down on those below. The shock wave traveled fast through the air, knocking other sounds away and throwing people on the Deeping Wall off their feet. The Uruks were only momentarily set back and it took a matter of seconds until they began filtering through the gaping hole left in the wall. Behind it the Elves stationed as reserves regrouped to meet them, but their numbers were few compared to the mass of Uruks that stood beyond the gate.

The situation below had turned dire. "Permission to go below," Vez called to Theodon, who had remained stunned by the blast.

"Granted," he replied beside himself.

Vezely took off for the closest entry to the warzone. At the same time, Uruks began battering the gates, snapping Theodon from his shock, "Brace the gates!"

The entire wall above the culvert was blown through, and the blast blew into the ground, causing water from the Deeping Stream to form a muddy lake that would soon be filled with bodies. The mass of Uruks charging through would meet Aragorn, Gimli, and a horde of Elves. Legolas was also quick to join his friends down below, finding a shield to coast down the stairs on.

Her sword could easily manage the Uruks on the Deeping Wall before the blast site, but it was below that the flow of Uruks was heaviest and growing. Reaching the edge, Vezely gauged she could make a straight trajectory to the ground below. She sheathed her sword and grabbed two fallen Elven blades. With one sword in each hand, she took a brief moment to gauge the right timing. Pointing the blades downward she lept into the middle of a mass of Uruks, two of which she quickly dispersed per the swords in her hands. She softly landed in a lunging position, her boots and knee feeling the squish of the muddy pond that had formed. A split second later her sword had been unsheathed and she turned to skewer the oncoming Uruk behind her.

"Nice of you to drop in," Gimli joked, swinging his axe at an Uruk's gut.

"Like I said, I don't like waiting," Vez replied, smirking at the dwarf who enjoyed fighting as much as she did. She felt fully energized being in a thick of real battlefield where a steady flow of opponents offered her opportunity to practice her trade. She used her quickness to her advantage, for what Uruks gained in size and strength, they lacked in agility. Quickness and precision, for every blow she struck counted so much so that perhaps she was only Elvish while fighting.

Regardless of the skills amassed on their side, the flow of Uruks was not going to slow. She crossed paths with Legolas, who had resorted to fighting with his two Elven short blades. They nodded to each other upon first look; she was relieved he was also unharmed from the blast.

Vezely upped her kill count by finding moments between blows to hurl discarded weaponry at oncoming Uruks, testing her targeting skills by aiming at their face. A quick toss of one of her sai saved a Elf bowman from being back knifed by a charging Uruk.

Close to being overwhelmed at the gates, Theodon ordered everyone back to the keep, to help defend it.

Aragorn hailed the orders in elvish to those in the Deep, "Am Marad!" (To the Keep!)

Vezely held out for a moment longer, as did Gimli, not wanting to give up the flow of flesh ready to meet their blades; though for the Elves heeding the call they may have assumed their ignorance of Elvish.

"Gimli, Vezely, to the Keep!" Legolas yelled. Vezely began to move, but Gimli tenaciously charged back the other way adamant to keep fighting. If not for Legolas and another Elf who started to drag him off, he would have certainly been overwhelmed as all defenders were quickly exiting the area.

The battlefield was being relocated to the keep's outer walls, as Uruks continued to encroach onto the fortress. Aragorn and Gimli relocated to the gates, Legolas and Vezely continued to fight on the walls along with the other Elven fighters.

Huge ladders full of traveling Uruks were being catapulted to the walls where they fought. Legolas swiftly arrowed one's rope sending it crashing down; for the others it was too late and a new stream of Uruks had a new path to the keep. Meanwhile, Aragorn and Gimli infiltrated the causeway, giving Theodon and his men enough time to reinforce the gates with wooden boards. Needing a way out, Legolas complied by throwing a rope from above them, planning to hoist them up.

"I have your back," Vezely told him, knowing he didn't need help in terms of strength. She kept the area clear of any interference from Uruks, and gave a hand when pulling Gimli over. It was only moments after that Theodon called a retreat to the inner fortress where they would hastily brace the door from the battering ram of the Uruks.

"The fortress is taken, it is over," Theodon declared to his men, noticeably dejected.

"You said this fortress would never fall while your men defend it. They still defend it. They have died defending it," Aragorn cried back as the battering ram began slamming the door.

Legolas perched himself meters from the door, bow and arrow readied for any crack that would allow release to a target. Vez found two spears perched along the side wall and did the same.

Concerned for the women and children, Aragorn rested command from Theodon to send Gamling to have them leave through the mountain passage and to take men to barricade the entrance to provide them more time.

Then, another feat befitting his claim to Gondor's throne, Aragorn convinced Theodon to ride out and meet them, to a certain death.

Horses were brought from the side stables, Gizik among them.

Vezely ran her index finger along the black blood that soaked her sword and lined the ridge of her nose and horizontally marked a line under each eye, transforming her look into one more reminiscent of a Haradrim.

Speaking to Gizik in Easterling, she said, "Strength, Gizik," The horse responded to the intensity in her eyes, shaking her head and clacking her front hoof.

Legolas climbed Arod aside her, looking upon Vez momentarily, finding the presence of another Elf reassuring in what could be their last charge on earth.

At the sound of the horn of Helm Hammerhand, the breaking of the doors, and Theoden's cry, "Forð Eorlingas!" the company road out onto the causeway, swords ready to quickly slash down the Uruks met along the way. Though it was not the causeway that concerned them; there they had the advantage of minimal resistance, for it could only accommodate so many Uruks. It was reaching the standing reserves that they would find the overwhelming numbers remaining.

The sun was rising, and slowly starting to creep over the Eastern Ridge. Seconds before the sun's appearance, there on the ridge's crest stood Gandalf upon Shadowfax, followed by a mass of Rohirrim who rained down the hill towards the Uruk-khai. The horde regrouped with pointed spears but were blinded by the rising sun and quickly cut into by the horsemen. The Uruks on the causeway, blinded and fearful, quickly turned from their prior task and fled with their company into the surrounding forest.

Vezely followed the other riders, filing into the line of Rohirrim who had just ascended the ridge; their armor and blades glinting in the bright light of the morning's sun.

Eomer, the king's nephew cried loudly to all, "Stay out of the forest! Keep away from the trees!"

Horrible sounds of creeks and groans accompanied undulating sways of the foliage; the trees would finish what the fighters at Helm's Deep started.

Victory after almost certain defeat…the cheers from the Rohirrim filtered through the canyon and Theodon cried victory along with them. Aragorn kept a solid composure, as did Legolas and Gimli, and they each greeted Gandalf and expressed their gratitude for his arrival. Vezely did the same, and Gandalf gave her a knowing look, seeing she had indeed found the right moment to reveal her identity to Theodon.

They would ride their horses back up the causeway to the fortress where the women and children began pouring out from the mountain passageways into dawn's light with hopes of finding their loved ones among the living. The mass of people led to Vezely getting separated from her companions.

The Rohirrim, being less battle weary, immediately began the clean up, searching for any wounded and piling up bodies - Uruks for mass burning and Elves and Men for their respective burial practices.

Preferring not to be around wailing women, Vezely decided to look for her missing sai, which she had thrown during her fight in the Deep. During this time, Gimli had already found the perfect seat to smoke his pipe, perched atop one of his kills as if showing off an accomplishment; the Uruk had his axe embedded in its skull.

Legolas also went to the Deep in the hopes of querying Gimli about the final body count; the two were constantly competing with each other, mocking each others race as often as they could, and finding ways to make jokes at the others expense. Vezely knew little of the quarrelsome history between Dwarves and Elves, but found herself amused by what she could gather was an unlikely friendship.

She quietly paced through the broken bodies, turning them over with her muddied boots as needed. Soldiers were focusing on clearing the bodies of Elves and Men, leaving mostly Uruks to look through.

Having exchanged numbers into the forties, and fleshing out the discrepancy of one, Gimli, noticing Vez in his periphery called, "Lass, how about yourself? What's your count?"

"I stopped counting long ago," she replied indifferent, continuing to scan for her lost sai. Part of her looked almost solemn, a demeanor that would continue for some time after the battle. It was simply the culture of the Balchoth. A battle's completion required reflection, contemplation on lives lost and mistakes made for redress next time. Pacing another meter, she found it, lodged in the skull of an Uruk near the steps.

"She goes from cheer before certain death to solemn after victory, not easy to figure her out," Gimli mumbled quietly to Legolas, taking another puff of his pipe.

Legolas who had just been scanning his Galadhrim bow for any signs of wear, now had his eyes fixed on Vez. He watched bemused as she pulled her sai from the Uruk's head and inspected the mess on its blade. He was curious as well to her thoughts, finding a desire to unravel her complexity.

Gimli noticed his interest and chuckled, adding "Aye, you might want to figure her out though."

Legolas's eyes shifted and narrowed back onto his compatriot who smugly smoked his pipe wondering what he was insinuating. He could not easily deny it nor admit forthright to being curious. But before he could reply with an equally smarmy comment, Vez made her way over to the two, bloody sai in hand.

"I am still not use to the color," she remarked, as she touched the black blood on her blade and observed it on her fingertips. She calmly smiled at both of them, breathing in the damp air and momentarily reflecting on the feeling to have fought amongst her former enemies; amongst honorable warriors. She did not consider herself one, however.

Legolas smiled for he could sense her reflection on these changes and there was some peace to her thoughts.

"Might as well get used to it, there's plenty more to spill," Gimli scoffed with a puff of smoke.

"How did that bow work out for you?" Legolas asked, slightly changing the topic from the unforeseeable future to the near past.

"More than adequate," she replied politely, "Gratitude again."

"An axe is always more than adequate," Gimli declared proudly, "It's simplicity makes it reliable."

"I have not had the opportunity to fight with an axe," Vezely replied considering the weapon, as she started cleaning the blood from her sai with a rag, "But with the strength of these Uruk-khai, I can see the preference for a weapon that can create more force with its swing."

Gimli smiled proudly at her remark, noting that Legolas would never admit to such a truism.

"But with a bow, as long as you have constant precision, there are enough weak spots in their armor to take them out. I have not seen such precision and speed in a bowman before, as I saw in you," she added, while looking at Legolas admiringly.

Legolas had not expected the compliment and knew not how to respond, but Gimli interrupted, not satisfied that Legolas's compliment seemed better than his own, "And what do they call these weapons in the East?"

Vezely removed her admiring eyes from the Elf back upon Gimli, "They are called sai," forgetting that they were not a common weapon West of Rhun, "They are good for hand-to-hand combat, for depending on how you hold them," she twirled the weapon between fighting stances effortlessly, "The hilt can be used as well as the blade." She quickly put it back into its holder on the side of her boot, and then added while gripping the handled of her sword, smiling, "But I will always be first and foremost a swordsman. The Easterling blade is slightly curved, as Elvish swords are," she briefly looked at Legolas for confirmation, "This one's a single edged blade. It requires precise footwork to avoid your opponent's weapon before quickly retaliating."

"Looks like Elves and Easterlings like their fancy precision," he joked, poking fun at them both.

"It is another skill weapon, unlike the axe which requires just brute force," Legolas added amused at the opportunity to smite him.

Gimli suddenly looked a bit angered at being ganged up on by two Elves, but quickly started laughing, causing Legolas and Vez to crack up as well. "Elves," he blurted out, amongst his laugh.

"I admit to not knowing well the history of Dwarves and Elves," Vezely chimed in, "Perhaps someday you should each tell me your version of it and I will have a better sense of this rivalry."

"Aye, but don't believe anything the Elf says," Gimli quipped.

Vezely looked at Legolas, smiling and amused by Gimli's comment; for Legolas it was good to see her so. There was still life in her, and the light of his people even if it was dim. Instead of using this as an opportunity to retort Gimli's comment, Legolas offered, "There are many stories that I could tell you and hope I get the opportunity to."

Gimli puffed his pipe, hoping his beard hid the smirk that had formed as he watched the Elf prince profess such a heartfelt desire, one which made Vezely stall for a moment.

"I would like that," she replied warmly before adding, "I would like to hear more about the stars, the first Elves, about Elrond…"

"How do you know Lord Elrond?" he asked curiously but with care, having remembered her response to Haldir's greeting.

"That is a story with few details," she explained calmly, "He knew of me though I knew nothing of him. I found out he sought Morinehtar and Romestamo about aiding in my release and recovery from Dol Guldur, so that I would not also be destroyed with it. I know I am related to him by blood, though I know nothing of my bloodline," she smiled slightly, "As you see, there is not much to tell."

"Your bloodline is legendary," Legolas added, wondering if she knew the story of the half-Elven, and that she held Maiar blood.

"Is it?" She replied unconcerned, "I can only assume so by acknowledgement of my relation. Though I am an unexpected addition," she shrugged, referring not only to the survival of her lost father, but to her role as Sauron's pawn.

"Yes, undoubtedly unexpected," Legolas replied considering.

Having finished his pipe weed, Gimli stood up from his Uruk throne and not to delicately dislodged his axe from its skull. "If you want unexpected, let me tell you of the time Legolas's father imprisoned my own, but do so from behind a hot bowl of stew," he took Vez by the arm to lead her out of the Deep, "They should have prepared some food by now," referring to the kitchens in the fortress.

Vezely smiled back at Legolas as he added, "You mean after your father trespassed into my realm?"

"I have done this myself," Vezely told Gimli by her side, "It did not go well for me either."

Gimli laughed gruffly, "Ha, that's the hospitality of the Elves. They don't even treat their own kindly!"

Entering the fortress, they came upon Gandalf and Aragorn holding council with the king and his nephew Eomer.

"I see you have discovered my minor secret," Gandalf spoke to Theodon in Vezely's presence. "I did not want to burden you with it at the time, but am grateful for your acceptance of her sword."

"She fought bravely for Rohan," Theodon added politely.

"And she will continue to do so," Gandalf added, "As long as you will have her."

Vezely nodded in deference to the King, as his nephew, Eomer, stood next to him, brows furled as he waited curiously for an explanation of this secret in the form of an oddly clad, Elf woman warrior.

Theodon took notice to his nephew's confusion and their lack of an introduction, "Eomer, this is Vez of Rhun, known also as the slayer of Eorl the Young."

Eomer's eyes noticeably widened to this knowledge, finding it an impossible occurrence.

Vezely's appearance was perhaps even more fitting to her historical baggage, covered in dirt and painted in Uruk blood, she looked as one of Rohan would imagine. She respectively nodded to the horse master, noting his obvious physical relation to Eowyn.

"It's good you all are here," Gandalf spoke pleased, "We will be taking a riding party to visit Sarumon at Isengard. He is his own prisoner at Orthanc. Prepare to leave at noon."

Knowing there was little time to rest and with his stomach not interested in being detoured, especially when he could smell food cooking, Gimli took off, "Fine, as long as I get something to eat." Legolas would go to converse with Aragorn.

Vezely, on the other hand, was concerned, "Gandalf," she approached the white wizard apprehensively, trying to keep her voice low for fear of being overheard, "Are you sure it is wise that I go?" She was concerned about Saruman's power over the minds of others, that even in defeat he could still do damage.

Gandalf smiled at the young Elf before him, "You need not to worry about Saruman playing with your mind, my dear. You have moved past such dangers." Vezely hoped he was right.

She noticed Eomer had his eye on her from across the room, yet unused to her presence. Eowyn would enter that moment, seeing Vezely for the first time since before the battle. Vezely smiled kindly at her, and Eowyn returned the smile, feeling slightly jealous that she also could not be covered in the blood and sweat of defending her loved ones.

"I kept my sword close," she told Vez quietly after approaching her.

Vezely smiled at her wanting to share her courage, replying, "You may yet yield it, the war is not over."

Eowyn nodded, and remained positive.

"Eowyn!" Eomer called over to her, his eyes full of suspicion of his sister's conversation with this harlot.

"Until later," she nodded politely, leaving her side to attend her brother.

Vez was not interested in eating, and instead returned outside, her eyes glancing at Legolas as she left perhaps unknowingly asking him to accompany her.

Legolas's eyes caught her glance and smiled to her through them; he watched her leave through the tall doors wondering if he should follow; it did not go unnoticed by Aragorn.

"Your eyes linger my friend," Aragorn stated calmly, hoping afterwards that he had not misjudged and offended him.

Legolas smiled, slightly concerned for his own sake and embarrassed that Aragorn noticed. "They do. Quite unexpectedly," he replied sounding slightly disheartened by it.

Aragorn smiled warmly, "It is a good thing, the unexpected."

"It can be," though Legolas wondered if such an interest to get to know her better was appropriate to have, considering the darker deeds of her past.

Sensing his doubts, he placed his hand on his shoulder, "Sometimes it is better not to over think your desires."

Legolas considered this and saying assuredly, "I will see you at noon then." He followed the young Elf outside feeling both slightly elated and unsure by his decision to. He was simply curious, he told himself, nothing more.


	7. The Forest River

Vezely made her way to the upper ramparts of the fortress where the best view of the valley was laid out before her. The sun had dried the wet landscape, now indented with horse's hooves and littered with scraps of armor and discarded equipment from the battle. It was a view she was well accustomed to and while most would be reflecting on life, having survived against such staggering odds, her mind thought of its irrelevance. She knew the scale of the armies amassed in the East, and how the defeat of Sarumon's forces was simply a small chip struck from an immense quarry.

Following the young Elf's path through the fortress's grounds, Legolas again queried his intentions. He could only piece together Vezely's history, from knowledge of the White Council's decision to aid in her release from captivity in Dol Guldur, though he knew not why that decision was made. The Blue Wizard's assisted in her recovery, but whether she was a willing participant of that aid remained unsaid. Even her role in the Eastern resistance and her relocation out West, along with the trust Gandalf placed in having her fight for Theodon, did not conclude the true nature of her charge. He quietly joined her side, his presence seeming to go unacknowledged as she was surveying the lands around them. Perhaps Gimli was right, he thought, he did desire to unravel her.

Keeping her eyes on the landscape, Vezely queried her thoughts. She was grateful the fair Elf had followed her, for she desired to converse with him again, though she also felt apprehensive about providing more information on herself. Her detachment from the world began long before her imprisonment and had not subsided after. Though coming West had considerably upset these self-imposed boundaries, confronting her not only with tangible remnants of her past misdeeds, but with someone who encountered her before she changed sides. Living in the world of men, such confrontations could not take place for she was held captive well past their life age. She never had to confront the longevity of her own kin or deal with those she had personally wronged.

He allowed the silence to continue, and looked North towards his homeland, thinking again about the past. His father had foreseen this turn of events, telling him after Vezely departed his village that there was a reason their path had crossed without resolve. What reason they had met again eluded him.

"Your thoughts go to your homeland?" Vezely suddenly asked, breaking him from these thoughts.

"Yes, war has found its way there," he replied, though this was not why his eyes lingered there.

"And you are here?" she rejoined curious as to why he remained in Rohan.

"My father sent me to Imladris as a messenger for our people," he stated, his eyes firm on the landscape, "And I volunteered to represent them in what you now see remains of the fellowship. I stay to fight for my friends, and for the future of Middle Earth." Making this declaration seemed to remind him why he could not be home defending his people.

"But I heard the Elves are leaving Middle Earth," Vezely was unsure of this rumor, for the East swam of them and despite desiring to appear uninterested in those concerning Elves, she always took note.

"It is true, our time here is ending," he began to explain. "They travel to the Undying Lands beyond the sea of Belegaer, where the leaves never fall and the daytime sky never grows dark from unpleasant weather. It cannot be reached by the ships of men," he then looked at her, for she had turned her eyes on him. They were filled with the same curiousness and wonder as the last time he spoke about the Elves, "There they will spend the rest of the world's days in blissful existence."

Replying with a hint of skepticism, "And you stay?"

"I was born here, it is my home," he remarked proudly.

Vezely could not help but covet such resolve, and a part of her wished she could have the same feelings, but "home" was complicated.

"And I have not yet heard the call," he added a moment later.

"The call?" Vezely queried, her eyes showing confusion.

"Our time to leave these lands will be made known to us," he explained further, slightly surprised she had not known, "Until then, I have no desire to go from these shores."

Vezely considered all this information, wondering what place she had in this mass exodus. Would she ever be called, or would she be barred from entering such bliss and face endless wandering alone in Middle Earth or in death, be stuck in the Halls of Mandos where she could not pass to the lands of Valinor for her sins were too great. At least, the Blue Wizards warned her of such a fate. Whether she should care remained to be seen.

Sensing her inner queries, Legolas responded concerned, "Apologies, if I have caused you ill thoughts..."

She turned to him, and shook her head, realizing she had let her emotions seep through. Changing the subject back to him, "It is a noble quest, to stay, to fight for your friends, your homeland. It is to be envied to have such a charge."

He knew she was evading his concern; hoping she would share her thoughts so he could help ease her distress in some way, he asked carefully, "And why do you fight?"

She looked back out at the mountain tops, to the snow formed on the tops of the peaks, taking a moment to consider a question she still didn't readily know how to answer despite her years fighting for the resistance. Part of her did not want to answer while another part was compelled to. "I use to fight for my people," she spoke slowly, thinking through her words, "Then I fought for Sauron, as well as my own bloodlust. In the dungeons, my mind wandered from my body, and I found myself standing alone on a mountain top in snow that didn't melt beneath my bare feet. I couldn't fight. I couldn't do anything but painfully breathe the cold air and feel the burn of the ice below me. There was nothing…no home, no friends, only myself and the faces of those I had killed. I left Dol Guldur with nothing," she breathed deeply before beginning again, "The Blue Wizards said it took months to piece back together my mind. They then urged me to fight to redeem myself, to find purpose again."

She paused her words, unsure whether to continue, but Legolas prompted her to, "And have you found it?" he asked searching her face from the side.

Vezely continued steadily, "Revenge was the only purpose I could find. I am not honest, kindhearted, pure like you are, like Elves are supposed to be. I can never erase my past, start over, or seek forgiveness from those who I have wronged. I do not deserve a higher reason to fight."

Legolas sensed the truth she held in her words, but it hid self-hate and hopelessness. Perhaps, he thought, this was her means of punishing herself for her past deeds by refusing to accept redemption under truer banners. "There is a reason why you are called Nwalmaer (tormented one)," he stated carefully.

She looked at him with serious eyes, admittedly knowing not the thoughts surrounding the title's creation.

"You were taken by orcs as a child, to be used by Sauron only to be locked away and forgotten. This fate was not your doing, nor could you have changed the course of such events. I know not your recent history, but the White Council would not have released you from Dol Guldur if they had thought you were beyond redemption," he said encouragingly, though his words were met with skepticism. "You are a child of the stars," he added slowly, "You do not need to reconcile your character with what you perceive to be the character of Elves. You were not raised amongst us, but you are one of us."

Vezely turned her face away from him, fearful of the emotions his encouraging words were stirring inside her and whether they were discernible. While she has been told to accept her Elvish roots, to have one of her own race tell her this was new, for she had always assumed they would not accept her.

Realizing her inner turmoil, he gave her privacy by looking again past the desolate battle grounds of Helm's Deep to the North. He shared some brighter thoughts on his homeland, taking for granted the inherent connection Elves have with nature, "I wish I could show you the Forest River in my homeland, take you to a brook whose water runs like a lullaby amongst the folded trees. In autumn, the leaves fall like soft rain, blanketing the floor in a collage of warm colors…"

Vezely began to remember the song her Elvish mother sang, the Forest River's lullaby, the soft rain of autumn's leaves, all were lyrics. "As the birds hold their song to listen to the brook, they hear the wind calmly claim another leaf for the floor, autumn fades but the Forest River does not quiet its sweet voice…" She spoke the verses quietly in Elvish.

"You know of this song?" Legolas queried, surprised by her not only knowing the words, but speaking them fluently in his own tongue, adding, "It is a Wood-elf lullaby, one known and sung to children in Northern Mirkwood."

"It came to me in the dream, from a voice I believe to be my blood mother's. I knew not of its origin," she replied bewildered, her eyes still turned away to the landscape; she felt torn as she thought of how beautiful the place must be if it does in fact exist.

Legolas smiled warmly, for such a memory was a precious one to hold. Her mother was undoubtedly a Woodland Elf and she held Sindarin and Silvan lineage. He brought a hand softly to her cheek and guided her to face him, but she kept her eyes down, afraid to show him the tension this acknowledgement brought her. He waited a moment, eliciting her attention which she slowly gave him. "Those woods remain in you. You must accept it, or Sauron will have won."

She kept still for a moment longer, searching his eyes and breathing along with him, wondering why he gave her such kindness. She then smiled slightly, showing that these words touched her; a smile which he returned just as warmly. Speaking sincerely, "You have been an unexpected comfort, one I needed since passing the borders of Rhovanian to face this land I knew not how I belonged."

Unexpected, that word continued to come up amongst them. Legolas was comforted as well by the positive confirmation of his actions, for she could have just as easily rebuked him. He wondered again about what his father meant while looking at her, finding himself drawn into her gaze. He then replied to her truthfully, "It gives me peace to offer you comfort."

Her pleasant demeanor changed again to one of skepticism. Regretfully she removed her eyes from his. She placed both hands on the rampart in front of her, gripping it slightly to steady herself as if a means to better steady her thoughts and return her emotions inward. "I do not know what peace I could have given whilst burdening you with my dark thoughts in these already troubled times."

Hoping he didn't cause discomfort, he replied warmly, "Your presence does not burden, nor do your thoughts offer trouble."

Vezely looked again upon the fair Elf, who had also turned his eyes on the landscape. She wondered what lay behind his desire to console her, whether the odd feeling of affection was not only her own. Concerned she had spoken unkind, she blurted assuredly, "Good, then I will not worry about asking you to tell me more about our homeland, our kin." The use of the word our felt strange but pleasant coming off her tongue.

Legolas smiled at her cheerful response, her saying of our sounded like music to his ears. Turning to her again, "I will gladly tell it."

For the next few hours, Legolas would recount the story of the first Elves, the origins of the different factions throughout Middle Earth, and his own Woodland Realm, answering her astute questions as she had them, as she was connecting this information to similar tales she had heard in the East. Though he suspected it allowed her to evade discussing her past or for him to press her further on her present desires.

"…I am afraid what comes after will have to wait until next time," not having finished the history of the ruin of Doriath as it was time to regroup with the others, and to get ready to ride to Isengard. He hoped there would be a next time.

"And I will wait patiently," she replied sounding cheered, not only was she grateful for his storytelling but also to have another chance to hear him speak to her. His voice was the most beautiful one she had heard. She did not know if this was due to his Elvish qualities, but it was terribly soothing to listen to.

Returning to the inner fortress, they parted ways with Vezely going to retrieve her rucksack and Legolas to do the same before regrouping with the others.

Passing through the inner ramparts, Legolas reflected on their conversation. She remained a curiosity for him, but one with a unique complexity, an opposing hardness and softness of character he found intriguing. From their conversation, he could sense her desire to belong and he also longed for her to find her place in this world. Finding out she was born in the Woodland Realm was also a unique revelation and he lamented that the Woodland guard could not protect her parents or her from the encroachment of orcs, who constantly terrorized their people. His home woods had grown ever tenser since that time prompting many Woodelves to leave these shores and those who stayed were forced to relocate their homes in the caverns built by his father. He knew what the war would bring to his realm, though he held hope that he would return in a time of peace. Perhaps she could also return there, he thought, to find her roots, to possibly remember what she lost so long ago. It was strange to meet an Elf without knowledge of their origins, which for Elves was an incredibly relevant to living their everyday. There was much she didn't know, and for some reason he felt obligated to teach her.

Finding a washroom first, Vezely removed the rings on her fingers, one by one, feeling the odd sensation of them leaving the skin that knew them well. The one she did not remove held the most meaning to her - the Balchoth leader ring, given to her on her father's death bed as it is tradition to pass on to the chosen clan leader through the ages. It was carved with a crude image of the sun, a symbol to represent the golden armored horde and the sun-given power used to blind their enemy with fear. She had retrieved it only recently on her trek over to the West, from the Balchoth's burial site, where the last of her clan was buried. She had decided to relinquish it after their defeat out West, when the numbers of Balchoth dwindled and disappeared. Instead of feeling the weight of failing her people, she instead submitted her whole will and purpose to Sauron, standing for noting outside of his desire. This ring reminded her of when she stood for something more. Regardless of the ill causes that brought her to Balchoth hands, she remained grateful for her foster parent's acceptance as a child. They treated her as their own and she assumed the role as leader gracefully as a true Balchoth, haven proven her strength and allegiance to her people and a desire to uphold their culture. The ring represented her past before Sauron's purpose was made known to her; where she had a people to defend and fight for.

She could not remember her Elven parents, the full reasoning of such memory loss unknown. Yet today she discovered her connection to Northern Mirkwood, a place she once entered without acknowledgement of it. Legolas had offered her this knowledge kindly, providing her reasons to embrace her blood and not to be ashamed in doing so. Why he accepted her, and showed her such kindness, she did not know, though she tried not to question it or the feelings he was stirring inside her.

After drying her face, she finely lined her eyes with charcoal, replaced her rings, and loosely wrapped her black scarf over her head to prepare for riding. She left for the stables to tend to Gizik, passing Eomer on the way. He had the same displeased look on his face as when they first met each other. She nodded to him, a gesture he returned civilly, though she could sense he distrusted her.

Patting her nose, she spoke softly to her horse in Easterling, "Gizik, you are enjoying stable life, aren't you?" As she prepared her for riding, she spoke about the future journey, and about other unexpected occurrences, as if confiding in an old friend who could understand and commiserate.

Legolas came to retrieve the Rohirrim horse that he and Gimli would ride, finding Vezely speaking an unfamiliar tongue.

"You are close," he said pleasantly.

"She has taken me through many worthy adventures. I consider her a friend," Vezely smiled not only for these memories but also to see the fair Elf again.

Legolas patted the horse on the nose and spoke several words to her in Elvish, causing her ears to perk up and listen carefully. From what Vezely could translate, he thanked her horse for the companionship she offered, and asked her to keep her rider safe so that such worries did not cloud his thoughts.

Noticing her following his speech he asked curiously, "Have you tried speaking to her in Elvish?"

Vezely shook her head, "My pronunciation is not correct for I have only studied Elvish words recently from books. And I do not know if they were correct in their translations to begin with."

"We shall practice," he told her in Elvish.

"Practice?" Vezely repeated the Elvish word and after a short moment of thought, "I will try."

"But we should not speak so too often in front of the others," Legolas confided, and added with false seriousness, "For we do not want to bring about thoughts of an Elf conspiracy."

Amused by the thought, she asked, "And what could we conspire to?" still in Elvish, though slightly off rhythm.

"I am sure the Dwarf could answer that," he replied, noting his friend's penchant for seeing all Elves as problematic.

She could not help but laugh, for Gimli amused her just as much. They continued to chat as they walked their horses side by side from the stables to where a small band of riders was amassing to leave. Her Elvish was not perfect, though it was more a matter of grammar over vocabulary.

Aragorn and Gimli noted the two Elves' jovial manner and their looks of affection as they walked with their horses trailing behind them.

"They seem friendly," Aragorn noted quietly to Gimli.

"Surprising, seeming that one wanted to pierce an arrow into the other not too long ago," Gimli replied gruffly, but admittedly pleased by the changed experience of the two.

Along with Gandalf, Theodon, Eomer, and Gamling, the band departed Helms Deep and crossed through the surrounding valleys, at times following the same tracks left by the Uruk-khai army that marched that way just prior. The ride was not overly burdensome and the weather mild; all were grateful that the rain had not returned a second night.

It was not until they entered the winding paths of Fangorn that foul thoughts clouded their determination.


	8. Of Rhun's Deserts and Dorwinion Wine

Vezely sensed the forest's age when she stood on its borders awaiting Gandalf and his companions. Entering it, ill thoughts of her time in Mirkword resurfaced and unsettled her. She had not been raised to understand her Elven senses or utilize them properly, so her judgment of nature was not always sound.

"It's those talking trees again," Gimli mumbled, sounding miffed.

She looked at Gimli slightly surprised, adding quietly, "Foul thoughts of Mirkwood cloud my mind," for she could not deny her uneasiness.

"They do not mean us harm. For they have released much of their anger on the orcs," Legolas told them reassuringly, his own ears attending to their words. "The Elves taught them to talk long ago." Then speaking to Vezely in Elvish, "Listen carefully and you can hear them."

She calmed her mind and let her hearing decipher the exchanges, finding that perhaps the chatter was not as hostile as she assumed. He watched as she adjusted her senses, grateful when her uneasiness melted away.

"Yes, I hear them now," she murmured in contemplation, but in the common tongue, conscious that Gimli was there.

Legolas noted what he assumed was a slight apprehension of speaking Elvish in front of the others, reminding him of his determination to have her use it more often. Despite his mind forbidding him to look too far ahead, the possibility of her staying West after the war did cross his mind. An ability to speak Elvish would be an asset to her feeling welcome, he thought, an asset he should assist with if possible. Why he felt such an obligation he didn't query for currently his interest was in exploring the forest as they marched through it and he wished the trail would not end. "If only I had more time to linger here to understand their thoughts," he stated further attending to their chatter.

"And I to linger in the caves of Helm's Deep," Gimli replied assuredly, "For there is an endless pilgrimage worth having!"

"And I would give gold to be excused," Legolas scoffed uninterested, "And double to be let out if strayed in."

"You know not what you speak!" Gimli said determined, "Your father may have built fair halls in Mirkwood, but they are mere hovels compared to these. Endless halls, chamber after chamber, stairs after stairs going straight into the heart of the mountain. There you can hear an everlasting music of water, see gems and crystals brighter than Kheled-zaram in starlight. For their riches are beyond desire to mine, they are to glimpse and marvel and wonder at…"

Legolas had not heard Gimli speak as such before, "You move me, for I almost regret not seeing them. Perhaps we will have the good fortune to return here, that we may be delivered safe from war and together journey both wood and cave, exploring the wonders that move us."

"Aye, I may endure Fangorn if the caves are also to be shared," he agreed warmly, setting to such a promise. A moment later he asked, "And there must be marvels unknown to us in Rhun. Come lass, tell us of a place worth such exploration."

Vezely who had been touched by their conversation, was caught without a certain answer. "If I had the choice, I would not be closed in a dark cave or strangled by the humid woods of Fangorn," she declared considering how each felt too close to her time in captivity. "In Rhun, there are deserts that stretch beyond Elvish eyesight, expanses of sand and parched riverbeds, of dust and dirt that cannot be tilled; a land barren, a wasteland. There even the sun repels the earth, forming waves at eye level. The only sound is of wind traveling and gravel turning over itself…"

Legolas and Gimli listened intrigued, unaware that such a landscape existed; though each were unsure why it would warrant exploration for the young Elf. "If there is nothing there," Gimli queried, "Why desire to take such a journey?"

Vezely wondered, thinking back to why she took such a path the year following her captivity, having decided to leave the care of the Blue Wizards in order to reorder her memories. She continued after a moment of thought, "It is free of desire. A land unwanted by all those who live in Middle Earth, and thus it allows you to journey through nothing but your own thoughts."

"You speak from experience," Legolas remarked carefully.

She smiled slightly, "I do. But its wonders are not just its ability to reorder thoughts. You can find life living there amongst the barrenness, surviving on not more than is needed. Life where you think there is none. I saw flowers of hues brighter than any cloth yet dyed or jewel yet cut. They grow on plants of thorns and spikes. Strange, aged creatures live under rocks and earth, surfacing only to be warmed by the sun. To me, seeing this is worth more than gazing at rocks or listening to trees."

"And if safely you emerge from this war, you would return to this land barren but of life?" Gimli asked curious.

"Unlikely, I will go where my sword is needed," Vezely told them of her charge, holding no thoughts of a future of peace where she could roam without care, "Such a place never needs to see war."

"Ah, but you assume the end of this war will only breed more war," Gimli queried her belief.

"Yes, for if this war ends well in the West, the East will not be at peace," she replied forthrightly, knowing what factions remain will not resettle quietly.

Legolas furthered considered her words, reading into them and gaining another slice of her past and her future hopes; but if hopes they were he wasn't sure. Before the conversation continued, light filtered through the dark in front of them. Seen in the distance was the flooded tower of Orthanc, but it sat beyond the destruction of rows of trees hacked down to feed its once burning fires. Isengard's factories were no more. They continued on slowly, wading their horses through the knee deep water to the crumbled gates, finding two jovial hobbits smoking long pipes.

"Welcome my Lords…to Isengard!" the one greeted proudly, standing up.

This caused Gimli to rebuke gruffly but amused, "You young rascals! A merry chase you've led us on, and now we find you feasting and… and smoking!"

Vezely noticed the wide smile on Aragorn's face and realized these two were part of their fellowship.

The one sitting down seemed even more inebriated by the ale and relaxed by the leaf, adding, "We are sitting on the field of victory, enjoying a few well-earned comforts. The salted pork is  _particularly_  good."

"Salted pork?" Gimli inquired, his stomach practically growling the words.

"Hobbits," Gandalf laughed amused.

"We're under orders from Treebeard, who's taken over management of Isengard," the first one stated; a sense of pride flaring in his chest.

Vezely had never seen hobbits before, though she knew of them in her past for having studied the peopled lands of Middle Earth for potential places of conquest. They were non-hostiles, farmers mostly, who kept to themselves.

The two introduced themselves to the unknowns in the group as they jumped onto the backs of Aragorn and Eomer's horses. Merry and Pippin, they preferred to be called. They seemed unfazed when introduced to King Theodon of Rohan, for they themselves were lords of Isengard, or perhaps they were just tipsy from the meed and pipe weed. Vezely introduced herself as Vez and they were somewhat surprised to see a woman among the crew. "My lady," Pippin tipped his pipe to her, which amused her enough to give him a small smile, much to his delight.

They continued foreword and were greeted by Treebeard, an Ent, the likes of which none had seen. "Young master Gandalf, I'm glad you've come. Wood and water, stock and stone I can master, but there's a Wizard to manage here, locked in his tower."

The group stirred a bit uncomfortably and Vezely adjusted her headscarf to further cover her face for fear of catching the wizard's eye.

"Show yourself," Aragorn said bravely.

"Be careful. Even in defeat Saruman is dangerous," Gandalf warned.

Gimli added impatiently, "Then let's just have his head and be done with it."

"No, we need him alive. We need him to talk," Gandalf replied back sternly.

A voice called out from above, and Saruman slowly came into view, standing on the top of the tower. All heads looked up to see him leaning on his scepter. His voice carried gracefully down to them, "You have fought many wars and slain many men Théoden king, and made peace afterwards. Can we not take council together, as we once did, my old friend? Can we not have peace, you and I?"

Théoden responded softly at first, "We shall have peace," but then took a more defiant stand, "We shall have peace… when you answer for the burning of the Westfold, and the children that lie dead there. We shall have peace, when the lives of the soldiers, whose bodies were hewn even as they lay dead against the gates of the Hornburg, are avenged! When you hang from a gibbet for the sport of your own crows… we shall have peace."

Vezely felt it could be her that those words were spoken to, having committed the same crimes centuries past. Her armies descended on these lands, destroying settlements, killing all who stood in their way. She did not show mercy to those whose lives she took, as Theodon showed to her at Helm's Deep.

Despite Gandalf's plea for information, giving Saruman a chance to start to make amends, the old wizard had something to bargain with. From his robes he pulled out a slate black orb, which appeared to contain a glowing red ember in the middle of it. It was a Palintir, a seeing and communication device. Vezely had seen a Palintir before, for she was also once deep in the enemy's council and knew well of their uses. Gandalf moved Shadowfax forward, away from the group, perhaps trying to deflect attention to himself.

"…You're all going to die," Sarumon added malevolently, "But you know this don't you, Gandalf," the wizard sneered at Aragorn, "You cannot think that this Ranger will ever sit upon the throne of Gondor. This exile, crept from the shadows, will never be crowned king…"

Vezely felt oddly understanding of the wizard's current position, for in the past, if pressed into a corner would she be willing to admit defeat while carrying the weight of Sauron's orders on her back? Does she not also harbor doubts to the success of the West's plans against the armies of the East?

Saruman then added insult to members of the fellowship, referring to the Halfling who was making his way to Mordor. "…The path that you have set him on can only lead to death."

Angered, Gimli prodded Legolas to shoot him, but Gandalf desired mercy, only to be rebuked by a fireball from his staff. The flames engulfed Gandalf and Shadowfax, both of which reappeared unscathed. The wizard's eyes moved to Vezely momentarily, as if assessing another move.

"Saruman," Gandalf's voice ascended, turning his attention, "Your staff is broken." Saruman's staff shattered in his hand.

Grima Wormtongue then appeared on the tower, only to be batted down by the wizard after Theodon's attempt to coax him free. Still hoping to draw information, Gandalf called, "Saruman, you were deep in the enemy's council. Tell us what you know!"

"You withdraw your guard, and I will tell you where your doom will be decided. I will not be held prisoner here," he called in his last bargaining chip, but before Gandalf could command, Grima had stabbed Sarumon in the back twice. Hoping to defer death of the wizard before such information could be obtained, Legolas quickly fired an arrow into Grima. But to no effect, Saruman fell off the tower to be impaled by the spoke of a large water wheel before them.

Gandalf spoke assuredly to Theodon, "Send word to all our allies, and to every corner of Middle-Earth that still stands free. The enemy moves against us. We need to know where he will strike."

Treebeard began to speak of the washing away of Saruman and the coming of young trees, as the wheel turned Saruman's body under the water, an act which released the Palantir from the wizard's robes. The young hobbit, Pippin, quickly jumped off of Aragorn's horse to retrieve the fallen orb, much to the worry of Gandalf who commanded he give it to him. Observing Gandalf quickly cover it up in his robe reminded Vezely of its dangerousness; she often wondered where the others existed and who they serviced.

The strangeness of the situation - the failed attempt of getting more solid information, the fall of Saruman at the hand of Grima - all made for an uneasy departure from Isengaurd. Yet before they moved in the same direction they had entered, the young hobbits insisted on grabbing some of the food and pipe weed from the tower's kitchen to go, much to the pleasure of Gimli.

Along with the others, Vezely dismounted her horse and waded through the shin deep water in order to browse the kitchen's pantry. She found a closed door which led to a wine cellar; she opened it slowly, finding some resistance from the debris which had lodged underneath it. Inside was a long corridor of shelves lined with glass wine bottles and jugs hailing from lands throughout Middle Earth. She walked down it, stopping in front of a section of Dorwinion wine, from a land on the northwestern shores of the Sea of Rhun. Being an all too common sight in Rhun and in her recent life; these bottles stirred Vezely's memory.

* * *

_"You can drown your thoughts all you want, but that doesn't mean they won't resurface," the old wizard said with conviction after he opened the small den's sliding door to find Vezely seated at a low table, her legs crossed below her and elbows propped upon it. A Dorwinion wine bottle sat empty nearby while plates of food sat untouched. It was the Blue Wizard Romestano's home, where Vezely was a guest after her release from Dol Guldur._

_She simply turned her eyes away, unconcerned. She appeared languid and frail, her skin lacking any healthy glow, her hair long and still knotted in parts. She had not been out of captivity but for a few months and looked to still be sick with plague._

_The wizard took a seat across from her, having brought a freshly brewed pot of tea from the kitchen. He overturned two small cups and poured them each with the hot green liquid. "And if you don't eat, you'll never get your strength up to fight."_

_Suddenly her eyes went to his, "You would have me fight?"_

_He smirked, knowing he struck a chord, "You continue to assume we released you only to deliver another punishment."_

_This was precisely what Vezely assumed. She believed it was only a matter of time until she was called upon to face her past crimes; that these wizards would take her West where the so-called "free peoples" reigned and give her over to men, or worse yet, Elves, who would undoubtedly have her head. She did not speak, only searched his face with her eyes which then glazed back to being void of emotions._

_"We would see you commit to higher purpose," Romestano added, after taking a sip of the hot tea. "But such purpose we cannot dictate. You must forge your own path in this land now marred by Shadow, where there are yet fights to be had."_

_"You would have me fight for the resistance," she replied slightly perturbed, "You might as well just hand me over to my former enemies."_

_Romestano smirked at her sarcasm, for it showed life yet stirred in her. He considered her jest before replying, "You will someday willingly find yourself in their midst and you will ask for forgiveness and perhaps, they will forgive you. But only if you move on from here."_

_"And you assume I'd seek forgiveness?" She asked mockingly, shifting in her seat and taking the empty wine bottle in her hand, wishing more of its liquid lay inside._

_"The light of the Eldar has not yet abandoned you," he smiled undeterred by her mood, "You know not of your ancestry or what brought you to Rhun, in time it will make more sense, you'll see. Now," he pushed the bowl of rice towards her, "If you desire ever to hold a sword in your hand again, eat…"_

* * *

"Ah, you've hit gold you have!" Merry called from the doorway, breaking Vezely from these thoughts; he had found the door ajar and popped in to take a look.

Pippin was quick to follow, "Oh, what do we have here?"

"If it's anything like the wizard's taste in pipe weed, we are in luck," Merry added, wading through the water towards her.

Vezely smiled at the Halflings who exuded an airiness she was not use to. "There must be at least three-hundred bottles in here," she said to them calmly, having pushed her prior thoughts away.

"And here I am without a wagon," Merry said with feigned seriousness, stopping in front of her.

"Yes, but you've got two hands and a few pockets," Pippin added.

"Indeed," Merry replied nodding, "Any recommendations?" he asked Vez.

Vezely pulled one Dowinion wine bottle from the shelf, brushing the dust from its glass to view its year. "Here," she handed it to him casually, "Something close to where I came from."

Merry inspected it as if an expert, "Very good year," he mused, causing Vezely to give him an amused look. He pulled two more off the shelf before leaving with his arms full.

"I'll also take one of those, and this one, oh, and this one too," Pippin said confidently, grabbing another Dorwinion bottle and others as he left.

Vezely did not grab one for herself; she had become dependent on it after her captivity and preferred not to be reminded of its taste or its ability to remove her from her troubles.

"Ah, I see you've found the wine," Vezely heard Gandalf exclaim to the hobbits before she exited the cellar.

Leaving the cellar, Vezely found Legolas conversing with Treebeard, exclaiming his desire and bargain to return to Fangorn with Gimli, which the Ent took concern to due to dwarves being axe-bearers. "I have good will to Elves, and any Elf that comes with you is welcome. But you ask much. This is a strange friendship!"

Vezely noted how proud Legolas appeared when discussing this friendship, for it must be rare for even an Ent took notice. She watched him from afar, before noting Eomer's eyes lingering on her momentarily.

Eomer, who stood aside his uncle, asked him quietly, "Are you sure this woman can be trusted?"

"She would have allowed me to take her life if I thought not," he said remembering the situation at Helm's Deep. "The past is always entwined with the future. I believe as Gandalf that she has some role to play." He then placed a hand on his nephew's shoulder, looking into his eyes seriously, "Keep an eye on her if it settles you, but know I hold greater concerns."

Unexpectedly the forests of Fangorn provided a welcomed atmosphere for Vezely, for Saurman's words and her memories in the cellar hit too close to home. They would ride swiftly to Edoras, stopping only momentarily along the way for food and a few hours rest, the latter found quickly by the two hobbits who had finished a bottle of Dorwinion wine and with still being slightly intoxicated from pipe weed, they needed to sleep it off.

Theodon had been mildly injured at Helm's Deep and took the respite to address his wounds which began a group conversation on battle scars. Vezely listened to the conversation as she quietly honed her sais, feeling the rhythm to be soothing and wanting to appear busy in order to avoid sharing in the conversation.

"…Elves of course do not scar, thus you cannot prove such valor," Gimli mocked, taking a jibe at Legolas in order to make his story of being wounded seem grander.

"How is it that Vez came to lose an ear then?" Theodon asked a question the others would not have, for fear of providing insult to injury. But Theodon did not have such reservations or reserved politeness for someone he had already shown much to.

Stopping mid-hone, Vezely smirked slightly before looking up to answer this query, for it was a story that still held much contempt. The momentary silence made the atmosphere uncomfortable, but Theodon did not remove his gaze or rescind his question.

Gandalf intervened cautiously, "Only if Vez would like to tell it," sensing this could tread into delicate territory for the young Elf.

"She should," Theodon insisted unconcerned, "For it must be an interesting story, one which such a calm night would welcome."

She finally replied; her tone trying to appear removed from the incident, "My second in command took it upon usurping power."

"Usurping?" Theodon queried.

"He did not challenge me for the title. Instead, Sauron shifted power to him, turning my army against me. One against an army is not fair odds," she added, now with obvious contempt in her voice.

Theodon's eyes narrowed, for he did not fully grasp from her explanation this system of leadership. "Explain what you mean by challenge."

"Men of the East do not follow a leader simply because his father tells them to," she replied coolly, knowingly being condescending to the West's system of rulership. "Leaders are often challenged if deemed weak."

"You would not mean a fight to the death?" Eomer interrupted perturbed, but slightly amused if it were true, since for him it would prove their barbarity.

She shifted her eyes to his, replying as if unfazed by his reaction, "That is what I mean," causing one of Eomer's eyebrows to cock up.

"And you have been challenged before?" Theodon added, curious of this form of leadership so different than his own.

She slowly rolled up her sleeve, displaying a row of Rhunic characters tattooed on her upper arm, each representing a challenger's name. "Many times," Vezely replied resolute, "First, for not being Balchoth by blood, despite being raised as one and being passed the title. The transition period after my father's death…was trying," these thoughts bothered her slightly, then she spoke assuredly, "Despite Sauron's endorsement, I had to prove my strength."

"A fight to the death is not to be taken lightly," Gimli added, considering such contests.

"It is not," Vezely replied sincerely, "These markings are names and will forever be etched in my skin; the challengers will not be forgotten."

Eomer then asked intrigued, "And are these matches weapons based?"

Vezely wondered if she should divulge for fear of appearing more culturally removed, "It is the challenger's choice of the weapon, which may appear as an advantage. Leaders, however, are expected to be skilled in all weaponry. Or, if they wanted to be more interesting, no weapons."

"To kill a man with your bare hands, few are provided such an opportunity anymore," Theodon wondered aloud of such a task.

Vezely eyes met his, showing that she agreed with his unfortunate assertion.

"And have you been close to defeat?" Aragorn suddenly joined the conversation, finding himself between remorse and interest.

"I have. But the scars to prove such did not stay. When I was newly appointed leader, my father's younger brother challenged me. He had more experience in battle and smartly chose a scythe, a weapon I had little feel for. It was the closest I came to losing," she remembered the tense situation carefully, "The title should have been his if not for Sauron's interference. He was one of the few unconvinced by the dark lord's offer and predicted it would lead to the death of his people," she said slightly disturbed in how it came true. "But I do not feel remorse for such deeds, or for the men whose lives I took in these fights," she said resolutely, "For it is custom, and remains accepted by those who rule that they can and should be challenged. It is what the West would deem barbaric, is it not?" She looked around at her companions who were unsure of what to say, her eyes stopping on Theodon.

"It is the method of changing leadership that is barbaric," he replied, holding his composure.

"Though seemingly appropriate for a warrior clan," Gandalf intervened casually.

"Perhaps," Theodon agreed considering, "And what became of this usurper who robbed you of your ear?"

She shifted uncomfortably, for rumors of this man's longevity and terror continued to plague the East, though his continued existence could not be fully confirmed or even possible for a mortal. Such unconfirmed information need not be shared, she thought. Her reply did display her bitterness to the deed, however. "He probably died in glorious battle leading the army I built. I never got to repay him the honor he bestowed upon me."

"I noticed you still wear the Balchoth ring," Gandalf noted the ring carved with the Rhunic character for sun on her finger.

Vezely smiled slightly at the wizard's keen perception, "I would not have retrieved it so recently, yet it holds sentimental value of a time when my life was not dictated by Sauron, a time when there was some reason for my existence. A fleeting time, perhaps."

"Vez does not give herself enough credit," Gandalf replied kindly, "For Sauron to shift power, you had to have disappointed him in some way."

She returned the query with a look of skepticism before Gandalf continued. "You at times refused to kill innocent woman and children, despite orders. Sauron was not pleased, and your restraint suggested to the White Council that you were not lost."

Vezely's eyes shifted away from him. This was not something she thought well of herself for; for yes, she refused to wipe entire villages from the map as the years went by, but it did not mean she hadn't been responsible for equal devastation beforehand or that her blade was not stained with innocent's blood. She never wanted to admit that a few softer tactics answered for her replacement and imprisonment, or proved she now deserved mercy from her former enemies.

Gandalf continued, "Sauron passed leadership to one easier to control and you unfortunately were discarded. It would have been a similar fate for Saruman; he did desire equal power for himself, but Sauron would not have shared it. A puppet only, once you disobey, no more. Even in defeat, Sarumon's allegiance was strong, but fear also took him. You were not as such," he smiled at her, though she did not meet his smile with her eyes which remained locked on the ground in front of her. "If that ring reminds you of more honorable times, then it should stay with you. We can all use remembrance of nobler times. For Vez, it is not found in old wounds."

She looked upon Gandalf at last, and smiled warmly back at the old wizard who had an affectionate way of phrasing his words about her. Like the Blue Wizards, he admittedly was fond of the young Elf and her brazenness; she was a rarity and a rare story, one not easily forgotten in his long life of many acquaintances. And she was one whose tragedy he fully desired to be amended.

But Eomer remained skeptical of such tidings, "And you wore that ring to the Battle of the Wold?"

"I did," Vez replied quietly, "But its conference of leadership is not the sentimentality it holds, nor does it serve to bring back memories of such events. Its meaning is personal," she stopped, not wanting to share anymore.

"Yet it can appear as if honoring the horde that raged destruction on our lands," he said with feigned civility, "To a continued desire for leadership. That is how I see it."

Legolas's eyes narrowed on Eomer, "It is of no such meaning," he stated slightly tempered by the accusation, for he did not like this horse master's play with words, currently or prior upon their first meeting.

Vezely calmly intervened, "Those days are long gone, the Balchoth are destroyed…" she hesitated on how to continue, "This ring is all I have left of the ones who raised me, but if it offers offense," she removed it from her finger and held it towards him, "Take it. I am wary of being challenged for it."

Eomer did not retrieve the ring, nor return words. Instead Aragorn put his hand up, "No one here intends to offend the other," he looked at Eomer, then to other members of the group. "Whatever history we hold we must continue into the future together under mended circumstances. Vezely fights for Rohan, for Middle Earth. Her charge today need not be questioned against ours."

She removed her eyes from Eomer as he replied, "Fair enough. I do not seek to detach you from a mere trinket."

Vezely closed her hand around her ring; grateful for the validation her companions had given her, but feeling uncomfortable still, she quietly stood up and left the group, nodding to Aragorn and Legolas in gratitude before leaving.

While Legolas considered following her, Gandalf had already made a motion to go. He found her in introspective thought.

"Memories run deep," the old wizard stated, coming to her side.

"I do not blame his distrust," she replied calmly, "For trusting myself is hard at times."

"Says all you have once strayed down the wrong path," he stated pleasantly, "You were perceptive to believe Saruman might see your presence as a tactic, but I do not believe he would have succeeded in turning your mind if given the chance. Sauron failed and you today stand as a testament to that."

"You credit my story far too much," she said skeptically.

"And you far too little," he responded quickly, and then slowly added his reasoning, "You stand as proof that darkness can be rescinded, that what is good can be built back from the ruins because that good does not leave in the first place." He placed a hand softly on her shoulder, "I ask that you continue to fight by Rohan's side in this war and you will regain what you lost, and you will feel whole again."

"Mithrandir," she called to him as he walked away, "Thank you."


	9. Assumptions

The others in the camp settled down for a few hours rest, with plans to continue to Edoras at dawn. Vezely moved to higher ground, to a rolling hill's rocky outcropping; an all too common feature of Rohan's landscape. There, like a sentinel on watch, stood Legolas, leaning on his Galadhrim bow, looking out onto the fires of Mordor, which illuminated the sky in the East. He had been contemplating the information exchanged prior, continuing to piece together the young Elf's past while trying to unravel her in the present. He acknowledged that the culture of the Easterlings was far removed from his own, that Vezely was hardened by it, but somehow it also gave her purpose. The complexity that lay behind her strong façade would continue to confound as well as intrigue him.

She took her place by his side, finding his presence reassuring, calming. Speaking to him in Elvish and also fixing her eyes on the horizon, she said, "I appreciate your defense before."

He smiled, for he was glad to hear her words in his tongue, "Eomer spoke rashly on matters he knew not."

"And you defended me on matters you know not," she replied carefully, not wanting to appear any less ungrateful. He turned again to face her, finding concern in her eyes, saying nothing so she would continue. "I remain grateful, but as my past is laid bare, do not assume I am innocent of deeds that I only later came to question."

"Such assumptions I would not make," he replied steadily, noting perhaps she didn't want him accidentally thinking better of her than she desired. He added wondering, "You believe Gandalf's favor is misguided."

"He strains a metaphor for hope," she spoke as if talking to the wind, "As did the Blue Wizards. I am Sauron's experiment that failed, as if I had no sentient role in the choices I made. My minor defiance to Sauron's commands seemed undeserving of both his punishment, and further undeserving of the kindness on the part of those who saved me."

"I remember quite clearly," he began, wanting to steer the direction of the conversation slightly, "Something you said upon leaving my village. ' _Mirkwood will someday be overrun, but not by your armies_.' Even then you were not without moral compass."

Vezely thought back, yes, she had said that. She was surprised he was thinking of that time. She straightened her posture. "The Balchoth were ruthless, but not necessarily without a sense of honor, a warrior's honor. But I lost that honor over the years."

"Tell me, about the ones who raised you. About the cherished memories that ring bring you," despite Legolas's desire to know more about the darker parts of her past, he also hoped to hear joy in her words and not allow her to dwell on anymore dim thoughts this night.

Vezely smiled warmly at the request, for she had not often spoken of those times or been requested to share them. She moved to find a place to sit down; an outcropping in front of a large stone to rest her back on. Her eyes and pleasant demeanor encouraged him to follow. Though he preferred to stand, he was obliged to accompany her. He laid down his bow on the grass in front of them, and lightly rested his back against the cold surface of the rock beside her.

She smiled at him as he sat, thinking of where to start, what to tell, and knowing she could never be as good a tale giver as he. "As you know, I was given to the rulers of the Balchoth to raise as their own under orders of Sauron, who they had sworn allegiance to. I was to be trained in their ways, as an elite warrior, prepared to assume leadership of their clan, and from this their people were promised aid in their claim to the lands across Rhovanion. I was young, not yet able to ride a horse properly, and very quiet, and needed adjustment. But despite my awkwardness, they always treated me as their own. Their former child had died and I like to believe I filled the void that was left.

My mother, Kuzu, was fearless and the best rider of the Balchoth. I learned everything I know about riding from her, but I still do not think my skills surpass hers. She loved to tell me fanciful tales of dragons and exotic chiefs in mythic lands, and would do so every evening before I pretended to sleep. My nights were spent inventing stories of myself partaking in these adventures. And my father, Yumruk, was an extremely stern man of little words, but I could always make him smile. Each winter we would forge blades together, and through those days of fire, water, and smoke I learned lessons on how to rule. Regardless of the fact that I was a task and a promise given to them by Sauron, they cared for me deeply. It was a time I knew not who I was outside of my clan, and Sauron had not yet revealed his plans for me. The world was small and I was focused on being a good daughter, a good warrior. My blood was not a concern until the years continued to pass..." She stopped speaking momentarily, not sure how to continue, for the thoughts of her family aging and dying saddened her.

Legolas knew the reason for her staled speech, "To live amongst mortals is not easy for Elves," he said consolingly, knowing well the pain left by friends lost and for those currently he could not bear to think of losing. "Yet their memory lives on in you, as that ring stays in the sun," he added optimistically.

Her sadness dissipated with his words; they were exactly what she needed to hear. "Yes, they do," she then looked at her ring to treasure the memories it held.

Legolas then added, "The thoughts of your childhood warm me, for I had assumed you only experienced hardship and pain."

She understood this must have been a common assumption, for she was a child forcefully taken and given to what most perceived was a ruthless clan of barbarians. "Most do, for the Balchoth hold this reputation. Do not get me wrong, it is one well earned and they would not have been allied with Sauron otherwise," she smiled slightly before continuing, "Few know that Sauron requested a male child brought to him. The orcs brought me instead. I would have been killed if not for my parent's insistence of my worth," she stated proudly. "I also hold no memories of my life before, of my Elvish parents, or the base deed that took me from their arms and placed me in another's. Though I often wondered of such an existence in your kingdom, if that is indeed where I am from. Please tell me about your youth, comfort me with your memories so I do not continually burden you with the darkness that mine lead to."

"I already said, you provide no burden," he replied earnestly, and though he desired to know more of her life, he could not easily deny her sincere request. "I can tell you of my first century, when Mirkwood was calmer than it is now…" He spoke of his mother, who had already crossed into the Utter West, his father and the trials of ruling his kingdom before the changes that happened since the arrival of Sauron. Vezely listened charmed by his voice and presence, the thought of an Elvish existence, the beauty of living amongst the nature of the forest, all seemed blissful to her. Despite facing the distant fires of Mordor, dark thoughts of their present situation did not enter her mind or the conversation.

At one moment, Vezely rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes as he spoke of the first journey he had taken to Rivendell, where he would spend time studying about the people of Middle Earth and their history. His heart beat quickened slightly at her touch. He felt her warmth seep into him and smelled her scent, a subtle mix of cinnamon and sweet cloves. Yet thinking she must be tired, "I could tell you of the first time I met Lord Elrond, or perhaps..."

She shifted slightly and turned her head towards him, but his head had also been turned, causing a closeness they had not yet experienced. Their lips were mere inches apart, their eyes parallel, and they could feel the lightness of each other's breath mingling in the air in front of them. For a moment time stopped. Then realizing she had foolishly let herself break such boundaries by resting her head on his shoulder, that she was taken in by his presence and his voice enough to let her guard down completely, Vezely quickly moved her face away from his and sat back up.

"Perhaps we should rest our minds," he added politely after, hoping to mitigate her discomfort.

"I am not weary," she rejoined quickly as it was often her mantra, "Though I suppose, it could not hurt to rest."

She had brought her knees closer to her chest, embracing them with her arms and resting her head on top of them. She faced away from him, closing her eyes, and unexpectedly found sleep easy.

Legolas looked over her hunched form; she suddenly appeared weak and fragile to him. He thought of her imprisonment, how she must have looked in her cell, trapped in and without comfort. He was reminded of Gandalf's warning to not pity her, for she would detest it, though was not compassion in his blood? As she drifted off, Legolas inched slightly closer to her, and gently guided her body towards him. She did not rebel against his careful changing of her position and he allowed her to take the same position as before, resting her head on his shoulder. He would then lightly rest his own head on top of hers. Closing his eyes, the world suddenly felt calmer, as if the fires of Mordor were only a distant memory and invisible in the distance.

* * *

Dawn broke through the camp, emerging the travelers from their sleep. Legolas heard the commotion first and awoke in the same position. He slowly tilted his head up and breathed in the crisp morning air. His subtle movements however, did not stir Vezely, which surprised him and he wondered when the last time was she rested. Thus, he didn't have the heart to wake her immediately.

A rumbling groan suddenly came from the camp. Gimli emerged from his sleep feeling a pressing headache from over smoking the night before, an intolerance noted merrily by the two hobbits who felt better because of the sleep Longbottom leaf had brought.

Vez stirred immediately and her right hand reached for the hilt of her blade though it was missing, all before realizing she sat close to Legolas and that his arm was around her back.

"'Quel amrun (good morning)," he said softly.

Bewildered by being startled, and in such a position, she replied with her eyes wide and cheeks slightly blushed, "'Quel amrun."

"I would linger here a little longer," he spoke quietly, "But we should prepare to leave with the others." He slowly stood, offering his hand to her, and she took it while contemplating his words and the position she awoke in, allowing him to help propel her to her feet. They stood for a moment facing each other, hands still clasped in front of them, and their eyes affectionate but they stood uncertain of the others' thoughts which in turn confused their own. They walked towards the camp side by side, before leaving each others' company in eyes distance, an act noted by Aragorn who observed them when their figures first emerged.

Vezely whistled for Gizik, who quickly came to her side.

Legolas greeted Aragorn in Elvish, and he smiled knowingly at him, stating quietly as he walked by his side, "The night was kind to you, my friend."

Legolas smile proved this true, though he was still admittedly uncertain of his feelings.

Walking Gizik towards the gear, Merry spotted her Elven ears, covered under her headscarf the day prior.

"You're an Elf!" he proclaimed excitedly and wide-eyed, causing Pippin to turn and greet her with a similar expression.

"And you're a Hobbit," she said with candor.

"I thought you were from the East?" Pippin queried confused, rounding by her side.

"I am from the East," she replied looking down at him.

"You're an Elf from the East then," Pippin stated forthrightly.

"Something like that," she replied, slightly amused by his remark. Perhaps she was just in a good mood from the evening's rest, but she continued the conversation, "You know, you are the first Hobbits I have met."

"Is that so?" Merry said proudly.

"And how old are you?" Pippin blurted out, causing Merry to hit him on the side arm.

She cracked another smile before replying, "I am younger than most Elves," for this was true considering those who have been around since the Elder Days.

"You look young," Pippin added hastily, "Even for an Elf. I mean, not that I've met many Elves, but you seem younger than most."

She grabbed her rucksack from the ground and attached it to her horse's saddle. While doing this she looked at him skeptically, wondering if it was a good idea to allow him to continue.

"Pip, age isn't always proper to question a lady on," Merry whispered to his friend.

Stopping his conversation, "Sorry, meant no offense!" Pippin stated embarrassed.

"None taken, I am not like most ladies," she added bluntly, having just adjusted her sword to her belt, and clicking its blade into its sheath. She mounted Gizik swiftly, and smirked at them once more while wrapping her scarf around her head.

"A fact well noted," Merry declared in slight awe of meeting a warrior Elf woman.

Clicking Gizik into gear, she rode swiftly up onto the rocky outcropping to look out at the valley below. "The West is not what I expected, Gizik," she confided in Easterling, patting her on the neck, "Not what I expected at all."

The others would join her shortly and they would make haste back to Edoras, where Eowyn would await them, having accompanied the soldiers and villagers back home. That evening they would honor the lives lost in battle.

* * *

"Back to where we were," Gimli stated, upon entering the same quarters they had spent their first night in Edoras, "Still cold and drafty."

"Looks preferable to sleeping on an Ent root," Pippin stated optimistically.

Instead of settling in, Vezely quietly removed herself to the outdoor veranda, desiring to give the group their space. Their bond was strong, for before they had spent a trying journey together as the fellowship, continually tested and having dealt with the loss of their companions. She did not begrudge them this time to reconnect and bond again after being apart. Although, another part of her felt hesitant of being around Legolas after the prior evening.

She positioned herself cross-legged on the ground, her back against a pillar. The view was breathtaking, the expanses of Rohan stretched before her, and the cool, crisp air filled her lungs as it rushed up the mountain side below. She faced West, so the far sky was not occluded by the smoke of Mordor's fires. Moments of silence passed and she simply breathed in the landscape, noting the sound of the traveling winds and the dust they carried along. She had brought along a small tattered book with her; one with Easterling text scrawled through its once empty pages. It was her own writing. The book was a gift from the Blue Wizards who told her to write down her memories as she had them, for her mind was displaced during her captivity and she would find thoughts flooding in and should set a space for them in its pages to reflect. She had not turned the pages for some time, but felt oddly compelled to do so now. She found lines she had written on her time in Mirkwood: the small company of Balchoth who died in the ambush, the Elves she fought and killed, the wounds that afflicted her. She wrote of the woodland caves she found herself healed in and the king who spoke kindly to her. She read through her words in order to take her mind back to that time:

_"I awoke in immaculate quarters, cleaned and dressed in a long gown of cream fabric and of exceeding comfort. My weapons and gear were nowhere to be found, however. I did not know at the time my exit strategy, or my bearings for that matter. I only knew I must have survived the confrontation and undoubtedly remained in Northern Mirkwood among the Elves; the thought of their race concerned me for I am their blood but know them not. I aided my men in killing the ten who attacked us. I provoked it, for I had not heeded their warning to turn around and ordered my men to attack. They were fierce bowmen who quickly dispatched many in my troop from the high ground. Arrows shot on us as we scrambled to find cover, where I remained quietly, luring them to come closer before prompting my men to attack. Yes, I remembered suddenly as I awoke. The arrow that pierced my leg, my difficulty breathing as my lung collapsed from a knife taken in a fight with the last of them. My horse must have transported me to their city._

_I was a prisoner, though I wore no bonds of captivity. But how could I be anything else? I found the door strangely unlocked, though I knew not what it opened to. I slowly opened it, finding an empty room of equal size and sparsely furnished. Someone had been there recently for I found an empty plate and dining utensils left on a table next to an open book with script I did not understand. I quickly took the knife, for its point could still serve purpose. There were windows on the far side of this room, with curtains that blocked my view from the light streaming in from outside. My bare feet walked swiftly to the window's side, I peered out and realized I was above ground but underground; a system of caves where terraces and bridges were carved and built throughout - the likes of which I never thought possible. I jumped out the window to the veranda; my feet finding polished stone and no handrail to hold one from the drop below. I stayed towards the wall and move silently to the corner, unsure what lied beyond. Peering around I saw a staircase which connected to another terrace; a fuller view revealed it as a city of connected fleets. I grew discontent, for I wanted nothing but to be on the ground. My unfounded fear of heights became apparent. And besides that, I saw little possibility of navigating each fleet without being seen. One at a time, I thought, though not a strategy it was the only way down. I used the knife to remove much of the cream gown's length, for it would do nothing but slow down my escape. My bare legs and feet caught a breeze, the direction of which I did not know, but it prompted me to run down the first flight of stairs to the side of the building it housed. I peered in the window; there was someone inside, an Elf-woman in light blue robes reading. Then three others entered, all male, tall and with bows and quivers attached to their backs; one had a staff. They were speaking in a tongue I did not understand. The woman made a motion to lead them to the upper fleet, where I should have been._

_Two followed, but the third remained, problematizing my desire to go beyond. He faced the front doorway, which provided access to the veranda that attached to the next stairway. I decided to confront him, for it was only a matter of time before the three were made aware of my absence and returned. I quickly jumped in the open window, startling the Elf as he turned to swing his bow at me. I ducked and quickly kicked his foot from under him, sending him to the ground. He attempted to get up but found my elbow crashing down on his head while doing so, knocking him unconscious. The knife remained in my hand but I left him as such, feeling no need to slit his throat. Unfortunately the three others were aware of my absence and were returning. There was no time to race down the stairs unseen, so I stayed hidden by the doorway's side. The two Elves rushed in first, quickly going to their fallen companion, leaving the woman my victim. I quickly grabbed her, interlocking her arms behind her and pressing the knife to her throat. My back was toward the wall for I feared giving any others a clear advantage behind me._

_The bowman quickly has his arrow in position. He was fair of skin, with golden hair and piercing blue eyes that exuded an intensity I could not soon forget. The slightly older Elf, also with golden hair, but longer, and with similar features, motioned his hands for calm. He spoke softly but sternly, first in Elvish and then in Westron, "We do not want quarrel."_

_I smiled mischievously before narrowing my eyes on him. My words were angered, "I will give you quarrel if I am not released." To prove I meant it, I pressed the knife into the woman's neck drawing a small amount blood and causing her distress, but my grip was too strong for her to move from it. The archer stretched his bowstring further back._

_"Your wounds are healed," the Elf said to me cautiously, "We can allow you leave, but not if you take another's life."_

_"Who are you?" I asked, but not changing my stance or releasing my grip._

_"I am King Thranduil of the Woodland Realm, this is my son, Legolas, and the young woman you hold is Rayne, a healer without whom you would not have survived."_

_I felt slightly uncomfortable with acknowledging them aiding my recovery, but I could not think of his statement of releasing me as anything other than a lie. I hissed cockily, "And why, King, would you release me?"_

_"You are Elf-kind," he replied quickly as if that in itself was a good reason._

_I laugh unconvinced, "Elf-kind?" Then I added proudly, "I am a Balchoth. I am not your kind of Elf."_

_Thranduil came slightly closer, so I tightened my grip much to the dismay of the woman I held. "You are one of us," his serious eyes were fixed on mine, "Taken from your home and put on a path of Shadow. And you must leave this place now. If you ever long to return, it is by another route not yet laid out for you."_

_For a moment my heart stopped, I swallowed what spit I had in my mouth. His words haunted me and for some reason, I could not question their validity. "Release her, and we will allow you to follow this destiny," he added as I considered my actions._

_I slowly released my grip and kicked the woman forward, sending her to her knees. The knife remained in my hand for a moment longer as I awaited the archer to release the tension on his string. My eyes narrowed on his and we communicated our anger and distrust. Thranduil helped the young woman to her feet before asking his son to stand down, after which I reluctantly handed the knife to the king._

_"Come, we will take you to your belongings," he motioned to bring his hand to my shoulder, but was smart not to touch me. I followed him down multiple platforms to the ground below; his son followed me close behind. I turned once and searched his face, letting him know I would keep my ears attuned to sense any mal move. On the descent I took in the sight of the Elven city, a magnificent cave that didn't end. Light streamed in from unseen sources, illuminating the artistry of its carvings. The thought of perfection crossed my mind and troubled me._

_Once out the entrance, my horse had been brought with my weapons and gear attached to its bridle. Thranduil took the reins, but before handing them to me, he spoke steadily, "You are hereby banished from these lands Vezely of the Balchoth, return and you will face certain death." I nodded in acceptance of what to me was an empty threat, considering the forces planning to be amassed in the East. I quickly jumped upon my horse, my bare legs and feet finding the leather easier to grip._

_I looked one last time on the city's entrance before departing and on the Elven king and his son, whose intense eyes did not fade. For some reason, I knew I would remember them as I write this now. Before departing, I stated as a matter of fact, "Mirkwood will be overrun, but not by my armies." I rode out of there into the forest, focused on more pressing matters; my people and the fate of their settlement in Calenardhon. I stopped momentarily that night, finding water and food in my pack, plain bread wrapped in leaves. I was hesitant to eat it, but found it nourishing after just a small amount. Northern Mirkwood never became part of my desired invasion list; I would leave it to Sauron's orc armies._

_The only other occurrence left unexplained is a dream I had after falling unconscious from my wounds. I write this after for I remain unsure if it was a broken memory from somewhere else. I remember standing in a shallow tide on a beach, the warm ocean water soaked up to my ankles, a blurred forest glen stretched out before the sand. I heard a beautiful voice singing in what I deduce is Elvish tongue and I felt as if it was my blood mother's. I have no proof, only a feeling."_

Scrawled on the same page was the phonetics of the Elvish she had heard, which she would attempt to translate many years later as she learned the language. Also on the page, scrawled sideways in the margins, was a short Balchoth proverb she learned as a child, which reading again now held different layers of meaning. She began to recite quietly to the wind, "The land stretches on, set your foot on it, make it your home, but do not stray from the warrior's path or forget the home you came from."

"What does it mean?" Aragorn asked behind her, having come out for a quick smoke and hearing her speak lyrically to the wind in a foreign tongue.

"It's about remembering home after one leaves it or makes another," she replied still in thought, as Aragorn leaned on the pillar beside her. "I wrote it down here and I do not know why."

Aragorn looked briefly at the Rhunic scrawlings in her book; its pages were full and they looked to have been turned frequently.

She looked up to him, taking herself away from her thoughts to ask, "You have been East?"

"Some time ago I crossed the Rhovanion," he stated pleasantly.

"As a ranger?" she queried.

He nodded, allowing her to continue. "I encountered a band of rangers once on a campaign in the Iron Hills. The meeting was tense but it did not end in bloodshed," she remembered, clutching her book slightly, and then she added admiringly, "It is a noble charge, protecting those without want of recognition or reward. A better leader," she added, "Is always one who does not want the title."

"You are perceptive," he remarked. As of lately his thoughts of being something more were troubling him, worries Vezely noted in his demeanor.

"I do not overly concern myself with the West's strategy, for it is not my place to be privy to such information," she replied steadily, "But I am relieved that such plans involve you, even if you are reluctant of them."

He smiled humbly, "We may both understand displacement."

"I do not think you are displaced. Your heart appears settled," Vezely remarked kindly, noting the jewel that continuously hung from his neck with her eyes.

"That it is," he was warmed thinking of the truth of this statement.

She looked back out on the landscape, "Attachment is a weakness, I would tell myself. Maybe it is a stabilizing force."

"Love is a powerful force, perhaps the most powerful," he answered, affirming this to himself as well.

Vezely further considered this, "The Balchoth in me would say the only real power is at the end of a sword," she smirked, "But perhaps I can entertain such a thought without disgust."

Aragorn noted her sarcasm with a brief smile, amused she was not moved by romantic notions as most Elves were. Then he asked curiously, "What else is written in this book?"

"Mostly memories I had pieced together after my captivity. I have not looked at them for some time," she replied after closing it, "It is both a luxury and curse to remember."

"I cannot disagree, but every moment makes us who we are today," he said encouragingly.

While Vezely considered this statement, Eowyn approached them, and Aragorn greeted her politely, "My lady."

"Welcome back Lord Aragorn," she greeted him courteously, "I have come to speak with Vez," prompting Aragorn to politely nod to both of them before leaving, and Vezely stood to greet her.

"Welcome back. You will join the evening's festivities?" Eowyn asked of her attendance at the banquet that night.

"If invitation is given, though I understand if it is not," she noted humbly.

"You are welcome there," Eowyn told her adamantly, "And I would like to give you a place to wash up, for you cannot very much do so around the men."

This was unfortunately true, though not due to qualms of modesty on her part. "That would be most kind," she replied; it was hard to deny that she needed a bath.

"…You said both women and men fight in the Easterling militia, does it not create similar concerns," Eowyn asked as they walked, curious of this integrated fighting culture.

"On certain campaigns, yes. But often women and men are segregated," she replied, adding further explanation, "I wish I could say that women are considered men's equals in the East, but that fight is still not won. The East is made up of a vast array of cultures, each with their own beliefs and viewpoints. While the Balchoth had no qualms with a woman leading them, others are not so easily swayed."

"I see," Eowyn seemed somewhat disappointed, stopping in front of the door.

Vezely continued optimistically, "I am partly named after Vezena, an Easterling warrior who led her people to victory in the First Age. That such legends of women exist in Rhun and are told to young children, that means something."

"It is encouraging," Eowyn considered her own people's myths which had sparse to none female heroines. Opening the door, she led Vez to her personal quarters and to the washroom which had a large sunk-in tub, "The water will be warm," Eowyn explained walking in, "Feel free to use what amenities you need. And I'd be happy to have your clothes laundered and sewn as well."

Vezely looked around at the rich comfort presented before her, unsure how to react. She spoke wholeheartedly, "You do not need to offer me your own quarters."

Undeterred, Eowyn handed her one of her own dresses, "I want to," she held her head up proudly, for Eowyn admittedly admired the warrior woman, feeling she understood her desires to fight while seemingly no one else did. She knew it may have been a minor defiance on her part to offer such favors to her considering her past, but she did not care. "I will have Gleda, my hand maiden, retrieve your clothes soon. In the meantime, you may wear this and stay here as long as you like."

"You are overly generous, Eowyn," Vezely replied, her eyes showing surprise, sincerity, and appreciation before she left, closing the door behind her. Vezely had not soaked in a hot bath since the days before her imprisonment at Dol Guldur, when she had commanded an army and could enjoy the spoils of leadership. The thought of such a comfort laid before her made her tear up slightly.


	10. Dressed Up with Doubts

After removing all of her rings, Vezely washed her sullied face and scrubbed her hands with lavender scented soap in a wash basin, taking extra time to remove the dirt that had accumulated under her fingernails. After removing her boots and slipping out of her garments, she took slow steps towards the tub, her skin feeling the cool air, her bare feet feeling the chill of the stone floor beneath, each ready to meet the warmth of the water prepared for her. She closed her eyes as her body became submersed in the hot, soothing liquid; sitting down, it rose up to her shoulders. A single tear fell from her eye; when she felt it on her cheek, she quickly wiped it away feeling such emotion was childish.  _It is only a warm bath_ , she thought unforgivably,  _you should not have missed it_.

Of course, she was lying to herself. It was not just the bath that was making her emotional. It was everything else. Crossing the borders of Rhovanion was a trying appointment and not her decision, but the Blue Wizards', and it was a task they tried to prepare her for beforehand – though they were unsuccessful in recovering her childhood memories, they encouraged her to learn Elvish and constantly reminded her, much to her discontent, that she had kin in the West.  _Kin_ ,  _who were these kin?_  She constantly wondered, a _nd why would this Lord Elrond convince the White Council to aid in her release or find her worthy of embrace?_

She did not easily come to terms with her Elvish decent, having no memories of her blood parents to guide her back or other known connections to move her. Nor did she feel that she belonged in Rhun, where she no longer held any position of power or people to call her own. This self-imposed displacement came with the recognition that while captivity changed her, it did not necessary reinvent her. She may have been Sauron's vassal, his desire to corrupt a member of the First Born as his master Melkor did before him, but she also willingly participated in his plans. She seemed more angered by her captivity than by her role leading campaigns forcing Rhun's allegiance to the Dark Lord. As a member of the resistance, she assumed the part of mercenary for the love of battle and for the sake of revenge, not claiming any greater purpose than being a willing sword. "I will fight for you," she told the Blue Wizards upon her return from reordering her thoughts in the deserts of Rhun, "But do not think it is because of the kindness of my blood or that I think you have a chance of winning." To live and die by the sword, taking on a warriors trade and setting out on the tasks of intercepting transmissions and hijacking army supply routes, made the past years straightforward and relieved her from confronting any internal discrepancies.

As her mind wandered through her past - years of war mongering, the darkness of captivity, and a few years fighting for the other side - she realized that coming closer to her homeland stirred exactly what she hoped to avoid, a desire to belong. Then there was Legolas, for he had furthered her acknowledgement of her connection to her kin beyond what the Blue Wizards could have hoped for. She knew she had let her guard down around him, conversing with him on topics she could not freely discuss with others. But spending the evening close to his side left her uncertain of her emotions or his. She feared he pitied her, an emotion she could not accept. For she easily accepted others hatred, fear, and disgust, but empathy, she detested. It made her feel weak; he made her feel weak and the West made her feel weak. Currently she could not escape her past, and she could not escape her kin. Yet she knew not how to reconcile either, or, as the Blue Wizard's desired, to seek some form of redemption.

A small knock on the door broke her from her thoughts, "Yes," she called, assuming correctly it was Gleda to take her garments to launder. Before leaving, the older woman cheerfully asked if she needed anything else and Vezely shook her head.

She would spend enough time in the tub that the water grew cool, though even then she did not want to remove herself. After she toweled off, she hesitantly put on the dress Eowyn gave her. It was a simple dress, but not one worn by a commoner – the first layer was made of cream linen, fitted at the arms with long sleeves that flowed into flared cuffs that hung down slightly over her wrists; on top was a burgundy velvet gown with a v-cut neckline. Dresses were not something she would choose to wear; impractical for riding, fighting, and in her belief, living. Even with no imminent fight ahead, she had to resist the urge to cut the length or put slits in the skirt for the sake of allowing her legs more movement.

Entering the bed chambers, she went to view her reflection in a large mirror on the wall. She had not taken in her full image in awhile, never being particularly concerned with presenting a pleasant appearance. She felt the fairness gifted to her by her race often undermined her credibility. Stepping closer to the glass, she looked at herself sternly, for in it she saw a person she did not recognize. Her body had not been this clean in ages. Her skin was pale and flawless, and with no black coal lining her eyes, she looked younger. The cinched waist and skirt gave her a womanly figure, the v-cut elongated her neckline, and the fabric's drape and flow provided her the appearance of grace. Her eyes narrowed, and then she murmured to herself, "I would not be taken seriously like this."

A hard knock at the door turned her attention, but before she could answer it, Eomer had barged in looking for his sister but finding Vezely instead - though a very different version of her. He was taken back by her gentler appearance, for not covered in dirt or clad in battle gear, she looked approachable. But not yet satisfied to reconcile her past and present facade, he queried sternly, "Where is my sister?"

"I do not know," Vezely stated honestly before standing aside, allowing him free entrance for he would do as she expected - not believing her words he would search the few rooms to make sure she wasn't there or, considering what he knew about Vez, harmed.

He returned to the doorway, and gave Vez a brief but strict glance before departing. Though at that time, Eowyn had come back with Gleda.

"Eomer?" Eowyn was surprised to see her brother in the hallway.

"I was looking for you…" Eomer conversed with Eowyn in the hallway while Vez waited, slightly amused at the man's previous discomfort.

Gleda had brought Vezely's boots, though sans her garments, which would hopefully be dried by the winds before the gathering.

"I am sorry about my brother. He is not always the politest of beings," Eowyn greeted Vez apologetically after Eomer left.

"Not to worry," Vezely replied unconcerned, hoping not to linger on the subject or make Eowyn feel she should worry, "Thank you again for such comforts. I do not remember the last time I had a proper bath."

"I am glad I could provide them," Eowyn smiled warmly, thinking that the dress's color complimented her, "I was going to go to have something to eat, your company would be most welcome..."

...Vezely followed Eowyn into the great hall, which was yet empty except for her companions who were also enjoying a small meal. She was not overly keen at engaging with them in such a garment but could not avoid it now.

All of them had washed and removed their battle armor, and were now lounging in chairs around a great table sparsely adorned with plates of food and enjoying a conversation. With their backs to her, she saw Gimli and Aragorn were smoking their pipes, Legolas stood nearby in his usual sentient manner, while Gandalf was enjoying something to drink. Eowyn was acknowledged first and she greeted them, though Vezely went unnoticed until Gimli choked on his smoke, causing her eyes to narrow on him. Legolas's eyes went wide, while Aragorn smiled and Gandalf smirked out of amusement. The hobbits, who were on the other end of the table, looked equally amused, though not knowing Vezely well enough their amusement came more from their companion's reactions.

Realizing the dress was causing the fuss she expected it would, she intervened. "Before you say anything regarding my attire," Vezely chastised bluntly, peering malevolently at each of them, "Know I have killed men for far lesser offenses."

Gimli could not help but start cracking up, which Gandalf added to with a boisterous laugh. Aragorn chuckled while a wide smile formed on Legolas's face. Eowyn and the hobbits looked somewhat bemused by all this.

Her stern-face loosened considerably after she sat down, though she kept her arms crossed to appear stern. She was seated across from where Legolas stood; he could not help but observe how different she looked without her eyes lined in black, without dirt in her hair, and how her youth radiated through her clean skin.

"A dress is, as Vez might know, a powerful weapon, not to be taken lightly," Gandalf added after the laughter died down, giving Vezely a knowing eye.

Vezely suspected what he might be referring, though slightly surprised that he brought it up.

"I heard from correspondences that you hijacked a Corsair sailing ship and diverted their fleet single handed and without blood," he told them, having been alerted on her accomplishments from the Blue Wizards - a letter written and sent West to the White Council for proof of her recovery and worth of her release.

"We needed money for weapons, I helped obtained it," Vezely replied nonchalantly; though it was a decisive mission that proved her allegiance, for the resistance did not easily take to her joining their side.

"Indeed," Gandalf replied amused, tapping his nose.

"Now there is a story worth hearing and a dress worth knowing about!" Gimli added intrigued.

Vezely's eyes narrowed on the dwarf, "The Corsairs are well-known for having a weakness in the fairer sex. They would not have allowed me to board dressed in battle gear."

"And just by wearing a dress?" Eowyn interrupted also curious.

"Well, it was not a dress such as this," Vez replied loosening her stern look; not expecting to have to relay such a story. "I posed as an Umbarian dancing girl. Their services are very expensive, but captains pay it."

"An Umbarian dancing girl?" Gimli shook his head disbelievingly.

"Oh, so you must be good at dancing?" Pippin queried, trying to follow along.

Vezely smiled slightly at this innocence, which Merry, the wiser of the two, added sarcastically, "I don't think it's that sort of dancing Pip."

Before allowing any to assume embarrassment on her part of playing such a role, "Umbarian dancing girls are expensive courtesans. Corsairs are predictable, getting their wine and women from the same place in each port. So, I tainted their liquor supply before they brought it aboard and made sure I was the captain's choice girl. The morning after they had not known what hit them, but their ships had been diverted to our docks and their hauls had been cleared."

"Pirate Vezely," Aragorn tipped his pipe to her.

Vezely smirked before adding, "But Gandalf, it was not necessarily bloodless, I did break the captain's nose before knocking him unconscious."

"Oh dear," Gandalf murmured and followed it with a good laugh.

Legolas was a bit surprised by her actions, even though impressive to have carried out such a feat, an Elf would have never done so in such a debauched manner. Of course, she was not like most Elves.

"My uncle Dwalin traded with the Corsairs of Umbar on occasion," Gimli added, proudly relaying information about his family, "All outlaws and brigands he would say."

Vezely had taken an apple and knife from the table and began eating it by slicing bits off. Somehow having a knife in her hand made her feel more relaxed in the garments she was wearing. "Those titles are well deserved. Your uncle must have been the wiser for they would sooner slit your throat than bargain a fair deal. And unfortunately their trade grows under Sauron's graces. Their eyes have been set on the Western coastline for some time now."

"Does each faction have such ambitions?" Eowyn, often left out of talks on the enemy, asked curious. At this time Theodon, Eomer, and Gamling entered the great hall.

Their presence did not deter Vezely from answering, "Surprisingly this war has united the East under a common banner and purpose, to reclaim the lands West once Shadow covers them. Where before, groups lived somewhat steady existences through free trade and accepted territories, now there is a scramble to prove higher allegiance to Sauron in return for more land and power. My suspicions are that regardless of which side wins, disputes are inevitable," considering again how she would have to return East to help with the clean up if the West indeed pulled through.

"For Evil Men, suspicions are unnecessary," Eomer joined the conversation.

"Evil?" Vezely queried with a smirk, slightly amused at the thought, "The very term is used in the East to describe those who claim themselves Free."

"Evil or not, they are our enemies," Theodon added fairly.

"And Vez will provide you all the necessary information on these enemies," Gandalf stated, intervening for he knew her brazenness was often too much for her own good.

Vezely nodded in deference to Gandalf, for this task was part of her charge of relocation and she needed to show more respect, though garnering it was not easy for her.

Theodon showed interest, "Good, tomorrow then, we will have council."

Before slicing another piece of apple with her knife, she provided an agreeable nod to the king, and briefly shifted her eyes at Eomer who remained overtly suspicious of her. She then looked at Legolas, gauging his thoughtful expression, reminding herself again that their conversations were always more personal and less confrontational than those she engaged in with others. She felt less guarded speaking to him, yet around others she cautiously maintained a demeanor that appeared unaffected by the world around her. It was a strange dichotomy. She smiled softly at him, realizing these thoughts stalled her in doing so; a moment that didn't go unnoticed by Legolas.

The conversation inevitably broke up into smaller groupings. Eowyn and Vez further discussed these factions in the East. To others, the two would appear unlikely to be amicable, but much they shared in feminine courage. Vez continued to sense that Eowyn had a decisive role to play in this war, though she did not always trust such instincts.

Afterwards she would go to check if her garments were prepared and unfortunately, they were not. Instead, she replaced all her rings and rewrapped her wrists. She also draped her black headscarf loosely around her neck, for it had been the only piece ready. She felt comforted by its familiarity and darker color, which she felt better suited her. She noted how suddenly it held the scent of the West, having been dried by its breeze.

Instead of regrouping with her companions, she wandered to the outer stretches of the city where the rocks cut down sharply to an abyss below. A wall had been made centuries past to keep wanderers from passing and accidentally falling to their deaths. She held no such worry, and quickly jumped the cobbled stone trappings to stand upon the rock face.

She sat down, dangling her legs over, and she continued to breathe the air a few more moments until it grew more frigid with the setting sun. "Vezely," her name held meaning to the Balchoth. In Westron it meant "the setting sun." The sun sets in the West, and it was where she came from, so her Balchoth parents found it appropriate; for she would be their sun leading their people to what they felt was their rightful claim to the lands West of Rhovanion. Misguided, yes, but truth is a value judgment made real by circumstance.  _Nwalmaer_ , she suddenly thought of the nickname her kin branded her with. "You tormented others and now you are tormented," she scoffed to herself, "Perhaps this is justice."

Upon her return to the cabin, Gimli was the only one who remained, having over napped while the rest had gone to the Golden Hall. "There you are lass, we should head over, or were you thinking of skipping out of this?" he asked taking her by the arm, "And you're frozen!"

"I was facing the Western winds," she replied stalling a little, though she hadn't noticed the cold he was referring to, "Are others already over there?"

"Aye, thought you'd might be with Lady Eowyn already," he replied.

"I suppose I got lost in my thoughts," she said apologetically.

"Fair enough. I'm going to get lost in the ale barrels. Time to drink the house dry," he clapped his hands merrily.

She followed him appearing amused but feeling her acceptance at such an event uncanny. The hall was packed with the men and women of Edoras, gathered in their best attire to pay their respects to those who died in battle. She stood on the sidelines, keeping behind ordinary townsfolk, desiring her presence to go unnoticed; perhaps the dress assisted slightly in this.

Having been handed a cup from Eowyn, Theodon addressed the crowd, "Tonight we remember those who gave their blood to defend this country. Hail the victorious dead!"

"Hail!" The crowd responded, taking a swig of their ale and taking a brief moment of silence.

With the festivities underway, Gimli made his way to the barrels of ale, while Vezely walked through the hall to a line of banners strung from the ceiling, each representing the great kings of Rohan. She stopped on the first one for Eorl the Young, the man she killed at the Battle of the Wold. On the far wall beyond was an elaborate tapestry, weaved with an image of a horse stamping out the sun, symbolically representing the destruction of the Easterlings at the hands of Rohan. Such a sight did not lift her spirits or quell her apprehension of being there.

"A defining figure," the voice came from beside her, "For you and for Rohan."

It was King Theodon, who Vezely courteously nodded in reverence to. "History makes it so, but at the time, such importance was unknown."

"I often wondered what sort of man he really was outside of legend. When you met him on the field, do you recall his demeanor?" he asked curiously, while admiring his banner.

She considered this question strange, but proceeded cautiously, "His eyes burned with the determination for his people. He said he would not let me take this land or harm its people anymore. He cared not for himself."

"He was a true king then," Theodon replied proudly, though the evening had led him to continue questioning his prior resolve at Helm's Deep, and how he almost failed his people. He would have given up, if not for Aragorn.

Vezely resisted the urge to say Eorl the Young died like any other man, for it is as such when sword meets flesh. She then turned towards Theodon and could sense that doubts of his leadership consumed him and she suddenly felt ill for her bitter thoughts. She reminded herself that she must let the West have their kings, for it is their way and where their hope resides. "You are not unlike him," she replied encouragingly, causing him to look at her with serious eyes. "Your men respect you, as his did. I remember, when I struck him down, they rose up even stronger and defeated us. That respect does not come from title alone."

Theodon thought through the woman's words, accepting them as a courteous remark that kinghood does not simply have to be about inheritance. Feeling gracious for the positive stance taken in this conversation, Theodon added, looking her straight in the eye, "Tonight I allow you to feast in this hall as a friend of Rohan, your past need not haunt you."

The validation made Vezely feel humbled and her hesitation of being there lightened, "Gratitude, for your continued kindness." She was reminded of how her expectations of the West were not matching up to its reality.

As Theodon left, she made her way through the crowd thinking perhaps she should attempt to locate her companions. She knew she had avoided them all afternoon and suddenly thought ill for it.

Legolas had regrouped with Gimli just prior, and was goaded into a drinking challenge administered by Eomer who had control of the barrel brew. He had spent the afternoon with his companions in the cabin, as they swapped stories with the two hobbits of their prior adventures. He noted Vezely's absence, making him query the evening prior. He did not know if he made her feel uncomfortable by pulling her next to him, or even why he decided to do so. He admitted he continued to be intrigued by her differences from other Elves and this held part of his interest. For despite all his time and accumulated knowledge, he still could not quite figure her out. But he began to wonder if the task of figuring her out was simply a useful diversion for his mind; that it was to alleviate the stress of the current situation and nothing more.

That afternoon he reflected on when he laid eyes upon her during her healing sleep in Mirkwood. He had accompanied his father to speak to Rayne, the young healer who offered to watch after the woman as she healed - the one she unfortunately almost made her victim. She looked incredibly peaceful as she laid there; her pale skin illuminated by the light, her hair dark as soil and cut bluntly shoulder length and with a heavy fringe balancing her face. Her freckles, a rarity among Elves, added to her uniqueness. "She is young," he remarked surprised to his father, noting her youth as an Elf of just a century old, appearing as only a teenager to man. "But as a child raised by men she has lived a full life," his father replied to him, knowing more about this woman than he. His eyes lingered and his father noted it, but said nothing. His father would not mention it until after her departure, saying there would be a time to resolve the reason their paths had crossed and the feelings that might linger. He rebuked his father for even suggesting such feelings existed, especially since she had left an ill impression in his mind when she awoke with eyes of malice and deceit.

If only he could question his father on his words once more, he thought, for he knew not the role he should play now that their paths had crossed again. Was it right for him to tell her Elvish history, to provide her knowledge of her roots, and thus encourage her to accept them? Perhaps he had too easily trusted her, forgetting the reality of her past for he could only sense the uncertainty of her present. He certainly was not falling in love with her, he told himself, having maintained his stance as a detached warrior despite his father's encouragement to seek companionship earlier in life. He had given up hope of finding a woman who he cared more for on all levels; quickly admitting to the incompatibility of his prior short relationships unlike others of his generation who let false love linger. Elves were monogamous creatures, destined to find their life partners amongst them. Many have to wait centuries to discover "the one" and some prefer to negate the search for quicker comfort of one not so perfect. Yet he wanted no such relationship, knowing they would lack substance and complexity. He would wait, even if it meant several more centuries of loneliness and an empty bed. Yet the waiting had led to quelling his desire of companionship altogether. The absurdity of having these feelings for someone as estranged as her seemed farthest from possible. His attraction must simply be one of diversion and empathy, nothing more, he thought. And yet he felt it was wrong to pity her, for she did not desire it nor in reality deserved it. This realization now made him even more uncertain of how to interact with her.

Making her way through the crowd, Vezely ran into Eowyn, who looked cheered by the merriment before her. "It is good to see you again," Eowyn greeted her, "But you do not have a drink in your hand? I will send you to the barrels. I would accompany you, but my duty is elsewhere," she motioned Vez in the direction of the liquor. Eowyn had the task of visiting with the people; a duty of noble blood at such a gathering.

She made her way through the crowd in the direction she was put in, spotting a table piled high with empty mugs, an Elf standing nearby, a Dwarf passed out on the ground below, and Eomer filling a mug with ale from one of the many barrels brought in for the event. As she moved closer, she caught the glazed over eyes of Legolas who looked upon her as if she was in slow motion.

He felt as if suddenly he was less aware of his surroundings, for the tingling in his fingers had continued and he felt overly relaxed. Elves often developed a high tolerance to alcohol though their long lives, and were hardly affected by over-drinking. Though Gimli had pushed him quite farther than he had drunk in sometime and he noted the physical feelings he hadn't had since his youth. Vezely was still in the dress she wore that afternoon, and as she moved he noted how the fabric swayed gracefully about her. She looked less exotic to him, and more familiar.

"These were once full?" she asked amused after reaching his side, referring to the empty mugs piled on the table.

He smiled slightly while looking at Gimli knocked out on the floor.

"Competition," Vezely added knowingly, "And you won." She shook her head and laughed, "Well, Gimli did say he would drink the hall dry, it was not in jest."

Eomer had filled a mug of ale and handed it to Vezely, "It is not dry yet," he provided her a friendly face.

Slightly surprised by the gesture, Vezely returned a kind demeanor while accepting the mug from him, nodding her head in gratitude.

"It is said," Eomer continued, his words now addressing the crowd nearby, "That Vezely of the Balchoth breathes fire and scorches all men who lay eyes upon her. Such tales scare children in their sleep. Funny how history twists reality." Eomer had made the men around him laugh, and Vezely noted slight contempt in his words.

But such stories made her amused, she smirked and gained a shrewd look on her face, "It is truth but only a trick," she confirmed, causing the laughing to stop and eyes to look upon her. "One only needs liquor, a torch, and the ability to spit." She then smiled before taking a drink of her ale.

A moment of silence was followed by Eomer laughing, "Well enough. Another round!" He began pouring for the men nearby who cheered him on. Luckily the night was not one well suited to breed contempt.

Legolas, who stood close beside her, asked in her ear quietly, "This is only jest?"

She hesitated, wondering if she should be ashamed, "…No, it is not."

He smirked, lightening his tone but saying sarcastically, "Well, you certainly make an impression."

She assumed he was not necessarily passing judgment, despite it being foul to light men on fire. After a moment, she added, hoping to not linger on it and to set the reason for her avoidance of them that day, "Speaking of impressions, I apologize for my absence this afternoon. I thought it kind to allow trusted companions their space."

"Your presence is not one that deters from such a space," he replied politely, doubtful whether this was the real reason she was absent.

She smiled at his words, noting his replies often displayed impeccable manners. Hoping to discuss her thoughts she added, "I actually reflected on the first time we met in Mirkwood."

He looked at her surprised, having also reflected on those events earlier.

Before she could continue, however, a ruckus started behind them; the two hobbits Merry and Pippin busted out in song, mugs in hand and dancing on top of a table. It was impossible to ignore for either of them and they smiled at each other knowing they would continue this conversation another time. Yet even when the song had ended and they could talk again, from their side two men approach them, "Excuse me," the man started hesitantly, he was wearing bandages and looked to still be healing.

Vezely recognized him as the wounded guard she helped after the warg battle; the man beside him was his friend who faithfully remained by his side. "I want to thank you, for saving my life," he attempted to speak with conviction, for it probably took him a lot of courage to approach her.

"Arman, correct?" Vezely remembered his friend calling out his name. The man nodded. "You fought for your life," she returned humbly, "I only assisted."

His hand went out to her and she took it, offering an equally strong forearm shake. The man at his side also nodded politely to her before they left.

She did not turn to Legolas, for if she did she would see his thoughtful demeanor, for he believed the moment may have had some resonance for her. Instead, she took her drink from the table, staring into the liquid before taking a drink. She felt oddly proud for saving a man's life rather than taking one. For a Balchoth, this was an uncommon occurrence.

"You are yet a good person," Legolas prompted himself to say to her, for he believed she would have continued to avoid talking, "Even if you rather not be called so."

Her eyes turned to his; he was too perceptive. "I have been called many things. I suppose I should not get offended when they are positive."

Before they could continue their conversation, Eomer called out to those nearby, "Could I interest anyone in a game of chance?"

"A dice game?" Vezely quickly responded curious, having always been one for gambling.

"A betting game," he replied.

"And what are the stakes?" She did not know if she had anything worth gambling.

"Whatever you have," Eomer said, "Stakes can be high or low."

She looked briefly at Legolas, who seemed amused that she showed any interest in the sport. Turning back to Eomer she stated assuredly, "As long as it does not involve body parts, I'm in," which caused odd stares from those around her. She then realized perhaps they did not dabble in those types of high stakes this side of Rhovanion. She put her ale mug down, and then climbed over the bench and propped her elbows on the table, cracking her knuckles in preparation for the game.


	11. Decisive Gambling

Sitting at the head of the table, Eomer appeared irritated, for Vez seemed overly confident in taking part in the game, though he at least thought her inclusion would make things interesting. Another rather large Rhohirrim with a blond scraggly beard brought the die, throwing cups, and cards. "Legolas?" Eomer asked his interest, but the Elf raised his hands, "I am afraid I am done with games for this night," he declined politely, still feeling slightly buzzed from the alcohol consumption; he remained standing nearby to observe.

Two other Rohirrim joined the group and Eomer laid out the game's rules. Vezely was unsurprised that it was similar to the game she often played in the East; the card's symbols were just different. The men threw various coins into the pot and she removed one ring from her finger, a gold ring with a small emerald in the center - A ring taken from a Cosair pirate during one of the resistance's brief campaigns at sea. "To start," she smiled, feeling good about playing, for gambling offered a chance to take her mind off of more pressing matters.

The various throws of dice went around with higher stakes being thrown in; Vezely added another ring. Legolas noted her honed gestures, the way she rolled the dice in the cup and her confidence in her dealings with the cards; he deduced she must have played this game often before.

After several rounds, the two men decidedly backed out, leaving Vez against Eomer.

"The stakes should go higher," Eomer remarked, seeming confident in his current hand.

She narrowed her eyes, trying to gauge his hand as compared to hers, "What do you have in mind?"

"Our horses," Eomer replied assuredly. "If I win, you give me that black stead of yours. If you win, you can have the best horse of the Rohirrim."

Vezely had no interest in his horse, or giving up hers. "It seems a fair bet, but you have many horses at your disposal. As for myself, I am carried only by one and have no desire for two."

"You did agree to high stakes," he added steadily, about to charge her with weakness for backing out.

She breathed in, thinking she got a sense of his bluff and grew more assured of her own hand. "I did. So my horse for yours."

Legolas grew uncomfortable. It was a bet if in a similar position, he would not have taken.

They each laid their cards down, and to Eomer's disappointment, his hand did not surpass Vezely's. She quickly gathered the small pile of coin in front of her from which she replaced her two rings.

Eomer looked incredibly displeased, but he remained courteous. "Well played. I will bring you my horse in the morning."

She nodded at him before he left along with his fellow gamblers, saying nothing. She felt it was simply enough to leave it be until the morning. In reality, she had no intention of accepting his horse, but figured she'd give him the night to believe she did.

Legolas took a seat next to her, querying, "You knew he was bluffing?"

"Yes, otherwise I would never wager Gizik," she replied before proceeding to drink the last of her third mug of ale. "I have learned to read men. They are quick to wager what they perceive is against your better intentions in the hopes that you will not take that bet."

"You have played this often then," he figured.

"More so prior to my captivity, but also following it. I left the dungeons with nothing. I gambled out of need," she then took one of the pile's gold coins and observed it, biting it with her teeth to check if it was real.

"The resistance did not assist you?" he asked curiously, though slightly off-put by her unladylike gesture, for which the dress she wore did not suit.

"They did not accept me at first, nor could I easily accept them," thinking back to her uneasy transition integrating back into the world once relocating her mind. Closing her hand around the coin, she smiled slightly changing to a friendlier subject, "Not long ago I won Gizik from a similar match. The man wagered a kiss thinking I would not be willing to submit to it."

"He was brave," he joked, and then adding sarcastically, "I would think a finger is an easier wager to make."

She laughed while holding up her other hand and observing it to prove she never lost to such bets, "I have played with such stakes long ago, when I feared not nor cared of pain for myself or others. Alas, I remain reckless to a degree."

"You are young. Perhaps when I was your age, I was of similar disposition," he replied amused.

"It is odd to be considered young," she said thoughtfully, "You are how old?"

"Five times your age," he answered with a small smile while looking at her, wanting to see if such an age dichotomy surprised her.

"You have seen much then," she smiled back at him, not necessarily deterred by it but it made her curious as to the interactions amongst various generations of Elves.

"You would think so. Even with eternal youth, those older envy ones my age. My father would say so of me, being born in a brief time of peace after the founding of our kingdom in Northern Mirkwood. Though, I would reply, our home has never known peace. It is always being invaded by orcs and always on the edge of Shadow. Yet he as others remember the Dark Times, the First Alliance of Elves and men, when Sauron was at his height of power, when my grandfather died during the war that stretched throughout Middle Earth. It has been a long defeat and they have seen more of it. The younger of us can only think we understand." Vez listened intently, amazed by such an age dichotomy, as many Elves have lived in the world since right after its beginning. Her stretch of life paled in comparison. He continued, hoping to revisit their first meeting, which each had thought about that day, "You were even younger when we first met. A child by Elf standards and your youth was a topic of discussion during your brief stay."

"I was not a child amongst men," she rebuked, slightly miffed at being considered so; perhaps he did view her as a child, she thought. Though she wondered why this interest was so amongst his kin.

"No, but there are few Elves your age in Middle Earth since fewer have been born during these times. For we are most concerned about our offspring, and would choose not to bring a child into the world under such conditions. I am an only child because of this. While I do not question your existence, but query the possibility of higher reasoning behind it," he proposed his thoughts, thinking of his father's acknowledgment of their crossed paths and hoping to further converse on it.

"Higher reasoning?" she scoffed skeptically, shaking her head, "Posing such questions only leads to others, and mostly angered ones. Many like to speak of fate and destiny. I want to know who dictates such paths for I would have a thing or two to say to them."

"You would be bold to do so," he rejoined dryly, noting her disgruntlement.

"Would I?" she shrugged unconcerned for speaking brash, "I have been from one side of the East to the other. Everywhere people claim to be guided by gods, spirits, the divine, the Valar...they seek their protection, defer their will to them as if such beings exist or care. I ask, where was their protection when my army slaughtered them, burnt their villages down, took their livestock? Was it higher reasoning for me to bring these people to their knees for the sake of Sauron, who may as well claim himself divine?" She stopped, for these questions irritated her, "Forgive me, I tire of being owned by unseen forces, as well as having my path dictated by those I can see," referring not only to Sauron's use of her, but also more recently with being made to go West by the Blue Wizards, having little say in the matter.

He knew he had struck a chord, which he had not initially expected. He added carefully, "You desire to make your own path?"

"If I was at liberty to," she replied, trying to speak calmly and desiring detachment from the subject, "I have yet to pay my debts and gain that right. Returning West is part of it." She then looked at him stoically, sensing he was considering her words and trying to figure her out. He was always doing so she realized.

Legolas thought through his father's premonition, wondering his own role in this and feeling uncertain of her current demeanor. She seemed to suddenly be distancing herself from the conversation, quelling what obviously angered her. "It seems fitting, since you once lost the right to return to these lands," he replied carefully.

"Yes, your father banished me," she laughed slightly, "Rightfully so, for I provoked the attack on your kin. We were given the chance to turn around but after our prior defeat on the Wold, I was in no mood to be deterred."

Legolas did not know she provoked the attack, though somehow he was not surprised. Several of his friends had died, and a sudden bitterness grew in his mind.

"I remember," Vezely continued unconcerned about what this new information meant to him, "Thinking of the emptiness of your father's threat for I always assumed I would return, but not as such."

Legolas tried not to let his resentment show, for it was unfair of him to judge her the same now. "My father knew you would return. You may not believe in fate, but he did foresee it. But by a different path and as a different person," he stated with slight encouragement in his tone.

"Well, one thing is different, I no longer have an army," she added slightly annoyed at the notion of being different or of such premonitions coming true. Suddenly she wished her mug could be refilled.

His eyes narrowed, for her reply seemed not in jest. He added tempered, "You act as if you have not changed, that you remain who were under Sauron."

She noted the contempt in his words and did not answer, instead she shifted her eyes away from him. Unfortunately, she could not necessarily disagree with the assertion.

"I spoke rashly," Legolas then added politely, seemingly out of instinct, "On things I obviously know not."

She returned her gaze to him, her eyes appearing unmoved by his apology for she believed it was formed simply out of his elite Elvish breeding. "You desire to figure me out," she stated, noticeably irritated and knowing it to be true. "Don't. For I still do not know myself." She hesitantly stood up from the table, her hand grasping the top of her mug, thinking over whether to bring it with her to find more to drink or to leave it be. She let go of it slowly and left his side, desiring to leave the merriment of the Golden Hall for the dark and quiet of outside.

Legolas's annoyance at the exchange did not immediately dissipate. Again he questioned why he cared to know more about her. She seemed now to be too problematic a diversion for his mind and he desired to lose interest. Though underlying these thoughts were guilt; had he led the conversation poorly and perhaps he should not have suggested she remained the same as under Sauron. He suddenly worried he caused her distress rather than alleviating it. He was confounded not only by why he cared for her, but still cared nonetheless.

Aragorn, who had been talking with Gandalf just prior, approached the Elf who remained seated in contemplation, while Gimli was still passed out on the floor below. He sensed some distress in his friend as he rounded the bench in front of him.

"Thoughts consume you," he said calmly in Elvish after sitting.

"And ones I should not be concerned with in such times," he replied miffed, and sounding disappointed in himself.

Aragorn assumed such concerns pertained to Vez, who he had seen storming off just prior, "You two exchanged harsh words?"

He did not answer this directly and said instead, "I do not understand her. One minute we are affable, the next at odds."

"Do you desire to understand her?" he asked carefully.

"This I cannot deny, though it has become more of a distraction for my mind than anything," he replied, having convinced himself prior that his interest was so. "I admit to feeling obligated to offer her knowledge, to assist her in understanding our kin for there is much she does not know."

Aragorn knew Legolas was protective, but to a default, often viewing his companions as children and looking down on them; he replied carefully, "No doubt she is grateful for the information you offer, but she is not an obligation, or a student needing to be taught. And if figuring her out is only a distraction, this task should not cause you such distress."

"She cannot be more than that," he stated assuredly looking at him with serious eyes.

Aragorn noted his slip in calling the task her. While unconvinced in his detachment, but deferring to his friend's convictions, Aragorn replied calmly, "Regardless. If she is causing you distress..."

"I should not involve myself," he finished his sentence.

Aragorn nodded, "That is for your heart to decide."

Aragorn unfortunately had a way of grounding his thoughts, making him confront his less becoming character traits, and reflect again on his instincts. An obligation, a distraction, it was unfair of him to think of her as such, and he wondered why he did so. He could not be denying other feelings for her - " _No_ ," he reassured himself, " _She is not someone to seek companionship with, we are not compatible, nor does she harbor such feelings."_

Before their conversation could continue, Eowyn had approached them, having just come from speaking to Vez. She seemed slightly apprehensive, uncertain of how to approach the subject...

* * *

_[Minutes prior]_

Reflecting that afternoon left Vez with a great deal of distrust in Legolas's intentions for during their conversation she led herself to believe he was judging her responses, and he practically insinuated that she was a child or at least it seemed that way to her currently. " _He thinks I'm naive_ ," she thought darkly, walking through the crowd, " _A child needing to be taught._ " She was too angered to question herself on why she cared so much about how he viewed her, for others opinions always mattered so little to her.

Before she could reach the door, however, Eowyn approached her from the side, slowing her steps to a halt. She tried to remove any hint of distress from her face when greeting her.

Eowyn desired to share her concern with Vezely over rumors of trouble that could come from the previous gambling match she partook in. "Eomer is not pleased that you won his horse," she confided quietly.

"As I would not have been pleased if he won mine, but he did agree to the bet," Vezely replied unconcerned.

"Of course, but he may be reckless when drunk and I do not want harm to come from it," she added concerned.

"What would he do?" Vezely asked skeptically, then the thought hit her, "He would not touch my horse, would he?"

Eowyn's eyes showed slight apprehension, enough to make Vez turn quickly from her to go to the stables. Her mind had shifted from the previous quarrel to one of equal annoyance.

Upon entering, she found Ridar, the man who sought to apprehend her after the Warg battle, and two of the men she played the card game against, but Eomer was nowhere to be found. They were attempting to pull Gizik from her stall, much to the horse's displeasure.

"Is there a reason you are handling my horse?" Vezely asked sternly, her eyes narrowed on the men before her.

"It's a lovely evenin' for a ride," the one man replied assuredly, but his speech was slurred and he was obviously drunk. He tugged again on the horse's reigns causing her to whinny and stamp her hooves.

"And is it a good evening to die?" Vezely warned them sarcastically, for she was not amused watching Gizik being stressed.

"Are you threatening us?" Ridar stated back, undeterred by her words, his posture straightening as he turned towards her.

"I am politely warning," Vezely added, raising one eyebrow.

Before Ridar replied, the man closest to her charged, but she dogged him only to find Ridar also attempting to throw a punch into her face. She diverted their attempts easily and did not retaliate, but when the third man joined in, she no longer felt kind.

While slowed down by the skirt of her dress, they were slowed down by their previous alcohol consumption. Their inability to touch her made one mad enough to unsheathe his dagger making the fight more serious. He swung at her wildly until she grabbed the man's arm and twisted it backward, causing him to flip to the ground quickly. The other man charged her from behind, attempting to strangle her in a choke hold. She was able to divert his attempt by elbowing him in the gut. She then spun behind him to hit him across the back of the upper neck, knocking him to the floor unconscious. Ridar was left standing and exceedingly angry at the fall of his friends, and he retrieved his friend's dagger from the ground, "You witch, I will kill you," he spat with teeth cinched and brows furled.

She dodged the knife and retaliated, managing, despite the skirt, to kick him against the stable wall. She quickly found her hands at his throat, pinning him to the boards as he desperately tried to claw at her grip as it grew tighter. She observed indifferent as his face turned red, not caring if the man suffered from loss of air.

At this moment, Eowyn, Eomer, Aragorn, and Legolas entered the barn to find one man unconscious, another on the floor stirring in pain, Gizik stamping wildly, and Vezely in this compromising position. She released Ridar just before his brain went dark, causing him to fall to the ground like a rag doll before coughing breath into his lungs.

"What is the meaning of this?" Eomer asked in heightened tone.

Vezely remained quiet, her face showing no emotion beside the rage that brought the men down.

"Speak woman," he commanded her instead of his men.

Eowyn interjected equally angry, "It is obvious they were intending foul play with her horse. I alerted her to these issues, ones you did not dissuade your friends from prior."

Vezely went over to Gizik, talking to her in Easterling, hoping to calm her down as she stamped around wildly. Legolas quickly went to assist her, helping to get Gizik under control through soft Elvish chants. She did not look at him as he did this, for anger still writhed in her.

Aragorn had gone to check the pulse of the fallen man, as the others groaned in discomfort and attempted to stand on their feet. Eomer stood quietly by his sister assessing a response to the situation. "Knives," Aragorn told the group, picking the dagger off the floor, "They had even fouler intent." He then looked back to Eomer for answers.

"Apologies, I did not know they would go beyond simple horse play. I will have words with my men," he felt slightly guilty for not dissuading their intentions earlier. He appeared honest in not believing they would go this far. He went to Ridar and attempted to steady him to his feet, "Sorry my lord," the man croaked. "I should strip you of rank," Eomer replied to him displeased.

"That won't be necessary," Vez interrupted, leaving Gizik's side to approach Eomer, glaring at Ridar momentarily before speaking her peace. "I do not care for myself," she stated cautiously, "But advise your men not to mess with my horse, which is something I thought horse masters would respect." She then confided personally, "And your horse is still yours. I was not going to accept my prize come morning."

Legolas, who had calmed Gizik significantly, thought a walk outside the stables would further ease her stress and he was already making his way to do so. He thought the same would do well for Vezely, if she desired to follow him.

Vezely did desire to leave the scene, needing distance from it and finding her path already being led by the Elf, who Gizik was following without question. She approached Eowyn before leaving, saying sincerely, "Apologies for your dress Eowyn, the coin I won tonight should pay for it," for the skirt was covered in muck and slightly tattered.

Eowyn shook her head, showing appreciation for the concern, but she did not care to have her payment. "It is not important," she replied appreciatively.

Vezely looked at her sincerely before leaving through the stable's entrance. The two Elves walked Gizik slowly to the edge of town. They remained silent, and Vezely felt her anger dissipate slightly as her horse calmed.

"I can take her from here," Vezely's voice broke the uncomfortable silence, hoping to rustle the reigns from him and be on her way alone.

He stopped to face her, noting her distress and desiring to ease her tension but knowing not what to say for their conversation prior remained unsettled, as did his feelings for her.

He slowly handed her the reigns, which she took quickly and turned from him. Before she had gone three steps he called to her, "The stars still shine."

She stopped and turned her face to the side, for memories of their first conversation about the stars hit her, when she had asked whether the stars ever lost their light. She stood still for a moment before quietly replying with the same line he told her in his explanation, "Even behind a veil of darkness." She looked back at him, finding genuine concern in his eyes and a small smile which had formed from hearing his prior words, for she had remembered.

She returned his smile, exchanging with her eyes an unspoken apology for before. In that brief moment, before she would turn from him again and walk Gizik away, they rediscovered that affection did exist between them. On the outskirts of town, where she would listen as the townsfolk exited the Golden Hall, filtering their way to their homes down below, she realized perhaps her distrust was misplaced. While she knew not how he viewed her, for he may as well see her as a child, she should not harbor contempt in his intentions for they had provided her comfort. For through him, she saw the possibility of belonging. While the implications of this continued to concern her and she could not yet find the willingness to accept it, his companionship made such a path possible.  _Companionship_ , suddenly the thought of its connotation consumed her. She could not judge whether their companionship was more than a simple bond between kin or between battle mates. But thinking of it beyond friendship made her laugh at its absurdity.  _King Thranduil's son and me?_   _We could not be more incompatible_ , she thought,  _for he is a proper Elf, and I am properly problematic_. She could not think it probable or reasonable for either of them. When the hall grew silent and the village appeared to sleep, she would return Gizik to the stables.

Legolas returned to the hall's outside terrace, not desiring to return to the gathering in order to collect his thoughts in solitude for the evening had brought much to think about. While just prior their argument made him desire to lose all interest in her, now he realized he did harbor genuine concern for her well-being. He cared about her and she was not an obligated concern, but one that grew out of knowing her as a person and the person she is, while estranged and uncouth, did not deter his affection. His father did mention after her departure from Mirkwood that one day he would come to understand the feelings that may linger. For then he only saw in her eyes malice and deceit, but tonight he realized those same eyes harbored warmth and reassurance. But even if deeper feelings existed, he was yet unsure, it did not make pursuing such a relationship right.  _An unlikely couple_ , he thought laughably,  _One to cause more concern than celebration._

Amidst his thoughts grew a darkness emanating from the East. Aragorn who had gone outside for a smoke, would find him standing on the ledge, head cloaked staring at Mordor in the distance.

He spoke to Aragorn concerned, "The stars are veiled. Something stirs in the East. A sleepless malice. The eye of the enemy is moving."


	12. The Palantir, Power, and Position

It was then that a young hobbit invited the eye of Sauron to their communal sleeping quarters in Edoras. Pippin had grown unnaturally curious of the Palantir taken from Sarumon and lifted it from Gandalf while he was sleeping. Legolas was alerted immediately of the shift in Sauron's gaze, and he raced inside the quarters alongside Aragorn to find the young hobbit caught to the glowing orb.

Meanwhile, Vezely was amidst returning to the veranda when Sauron's presence overwhelmed her at the top of the steps, filtering her thoughts with cold murmurs and past truths. She had not felt his presence since her captivity, being hidden from his eye for so long. She moved quickly to the door, opening it to reveal a struggle had taken place and the glowing orb rolling towards her, having just been dispatched from Aragorn's hands.

She stared down at it, drawn into its gaze and Sauron's eye readjusted to hers as she went to her knees in front of it, her arms outstretched, her palms mere inches from its touch, as if she was welcoming it and the conversation it evoked. It seemed to speak to her and she reciprocated its tongue, speaking to it fluently in the Black Speech of Mordor, "…You own me not." In one swift motion, she threw the scarf from around her neck over it, covering it from view.

Her eyes then scanned the room suspiciously, finding Aragorn and Legolas looking upon her surprised; all others remained confounded by the previous occurrence. Suddenly Gandalf stood in front of her with his staff pointed at her face, "Speak, and prove you are yourself," his stern voice heightened.

She had not yet regained full presence of mind and felt slightly numb from the experience. "Dark thoughts entered my mind, foul requests that will forever go unanswered. But I remain myself," she rejoined slowly, noting Sauron's desire to turn her from her path of redemption. She remained on her knees, the look of distress marked her face as she and others turned their attention to Pippin who remained unconscious.

Gandalf awoke the hobbit and queried him on what he saw; trying to break him from the fear that overtook him and find out what information Sauron gave and received.

During this time, Vezely went to locate her rucksack and found her tin of spice tea; feeling a need for it at this hour. She then went over to Pippin, who was huddled in a blanket next to his friend Merry, who looked stern, but concerned for his friend who seemed to always get himself into messes. Pippin looked ashamed that he brought the eye upon them.

"Come, I find tea a most settling ailment at an unpleasant hour such as this," Vez requested kindly to him, hoping to lead him into the Great Hall to boil a kettle of water on the fire. "There is enough for several cups," she then added to everyone else before leaving.

"It wouldn't happen to be Easterling spice tea, now would it?" Gandalf inquired interested, for he did so enjoy it and had not tasted a cup for ages.

"It would," Vez replied back pleasantly.

"Oh, well then, I will also join, though I do prefer mine strong with milk and honey," he added agreeably while following her, as if the bad tidings were not an issue.

Merry helped her clear some of the plates from the table, which had yet to be cleaned from last evening's gathering. She had used the final remnants of her tea leaves, though it did not concern her when closing the empty tin's lid. She was grateful to share the last of it amongst them. After it brewed, she would bring the kettle over and quietly fill the tea cups and they would all enjoy the scent of the rare spices fill the air around them.

Handing the first cup to Pippin, she told him, "This will warm you up, for I know the cold that lingers." He graciously accepted it with a brief smile, feeling slightly calmed by her acknowledgment of what he was feeling.

Gimli, who remained hung over from the previous night's drinking game, also stumbled in to get a cup, looking a bit wrung out and forgetful of the past evening. He seated himself at the table near Pippin. Legolas, who casually stood aside the table in his usual manner, asked with the slightest hint of boasting, "Did you sleep well my friend?"

"Aye. But before I admit defeat, I'll remind ya still didn't outscore me at Helm's Deep," he replied firmly, remembering he had lost to the drinking game.

"I do not begrudge you one. And as you said, there are plenty more to go," he replied kindly.

Vezely thought warmly of their friendship, for she could tell it had difficult beginnings. She thought the same of the rest of the fellowship, for their friendships were true. To find herself amongst them at such an hour did much to comfort her resolve.

"This may actually help your head," she considered while pouring Gimli a cup. After which she placed down the kettle and unconsciously rubbed the wrist of the hand that held it, for her old wounds were giving her pain.

"Thank you lass, but you look to need it just as much," Gimli answered back concerned, grateful for the aroma and warmth of the cup in his hands, but noticing her tension as did others.

Legolas finally spoke of his growing concern, having watched her since the incident. His words made her turn her eyes to him, "You conversed with him."

"In the Black Speech of Mordor," Gandalf addressed the group, while not pleasing to hear such tongue he appeared unconcerned of the incident which he recounted, "Sauron requested Vez to bring down the heir of Isildur."

Vezely suddenly removed her eyes away from Legolas's, feeling slightly ashamed that such a request had been made. She then spoke to the group, hoping something was learned from it, "Sauron is afraid. He fears Aragorn." Her eyes now turning on the man, who had been quietly considering the prior incident with the Palantir and what he saw, if only momentarily.

"And such fear will progress this war," Gandalf confirmed, his cup in mid-air before his mouth, "The heir of Isildur is announced. He believes men will unite under a common banner and will move quickly."

Theodon entered the Great Hall to be addressed on the incident, where Gandalf assured him that the enemy had not gained any additional information of their ring bearer from Pippin, but they gained valuable knowledge of where he would strike next - Minas Tirith, the seat of Gondor.

Theodon was hesitant of riding to Gondor's aid immediately, dissatisfied that they didn't aid Rohan at Helm's Deep; he was determined to wait until he heard the request from Gondor itself. Despite the desire of Aragorn to go and warn his kin, Gandalf set off with Pippin to Minas Tirith to hopefully persuade the Steward to light the beacons. It was a three days journey, so they would wait and hope that once summoned, Theodon would agree to answer the call of war.

Following the meeting, and Gandalf and Pippin's swift departure, Vezely approached Aragorn outside the Golden Hall as he was returning with Merry who ran to see off his friend. She was worried that knowledge of Sauron's request would make him think ill of her.

"Aragorn," she approached him humbly, then walking beside him she spoke concerned, "I hope to mend what minimal trust I had with you before this morning."

Stopping, he placed his palm up to still her speech, saying sincerely, "It has not been broken."

She smiled warmly at this and offered him her hand, which he took by the forearm and shook it in solidarity. "Gratitude. You are more than worthy of the title that beckons you," she told him graciously in appreciation. Despite this reassurance, however, feelings of uneasiness lingered in her.

Legolas carefully watched the young Elf as she perched herself on the veranda, and as she slumped down on the corner ledge to sit cross-legged facing the expanding vistas of Rohan. Her body shuttered slightly and she desired the sun's rays to warm her, but the cold winds did not help her cause.

Aragorn also watched, and shared his concern with his companion who went to grab his Elven cloak from inside. Legolas attended her side and placed it around her, her eyes watching him curiously as he adjusted it, for she was not comfortable being tended to. She smiled kindly at him, a smile he returned. "Gratitude," she spoke meekly, not begrudging him this time for taking care of her.

"You should rest," he told her softly, "The evening has been eventful and there is no fault in allowing the morning to pass unattended." Legolas then motioned to leave, believing she desired solitude, but her hand grabbed his before he did so.

Vezely's hand did not release his grasp, telling him, "You are too polite to ask what you desire to know."

He looked upon her, slightly surprised by her touch, "I would not want it to appear that I doubt you."

"And I would not begrudge you if you did. Please stay by my side for a little longer," she requested him, and he then took a seat beside her, knowing not what she would say or prompting her to say anything.

After a moment, she began to explain what she believed needed to be explained, also working through her own thoughts which were unsettled. "Sauron will forever have a hold on me. He now plays on my desires, offering me command of the Easterling armies and dominion over the lands they're set to conquer."

The pause in her speech left Legolas confused, prompting him to ask skeptically, "These are not still your desires?"

She looked at him wearily, "On the way back from Isengard, I said as my past is laid bare, do not assume my strength always came from honorable intent or that I am innocent of deeds that I only later came to question. It was not very long ago that these desires left me. Even my captivity did not sway me from what I thought was my destiny."

He allowed her to continue unimpeded.

"Upon my release from Dol Guldur, I forced myself into exile into the desserts of Rhun, leaving the care of the Blue Wizards momentarily, despite their concern for my mental stability. The warmth of the desert sun was inviting for I had only known the cold of my cell and soaked in the rays as if I could not be quenched of thirst. It is a landscape most would fear, but the open space and heat ended up being a welcomed respite. As my memories returned, I should have been filled with remorse for the deeds I've done, for the lives I took, it should have given me reason to fight for redemption. But instead, I was angry, for having been deceived, for my life's work being taken over by my second in command, for being imprisoned. And while I should be angry at Sauron for killing my blood parents and having me raised as his own vengeful plot, I cared not for this. I held nothing for my kin in the West, only a weak obligation for having aided in my release.

Joining the resistance was simply a gateway for my revenge and a place to practice my trade, even if I saw it as chipping rocks from a neverending quarry. I knew they had no chance against Sauron and the armies I helped build...The day the resistance fell was the day I set out to go West of Rhovanion, to find Gandalf and continue to fight for no higher purpose.

You desired to figure me out," she then looked at him, finding concern in his eyes for these revelations were unpleasant, "This was me before coming West. It was easier not to feel remorse, to not care about belonging, or about others. I may have even taken Sauron up on his offer. But I know now why the Blue Wizards insisted on me learning Elvish, to at least make me minimally acknowledge my roots," her eyes searched his before saying, "For they were preparing me to go West where I would meet you and you would answer questions I always had but knew not the answers. You assured me that I belong somewhere and should allow myself a higher reason to fight. Perhaps I started to believe it. And here I am, not as set in my prior path."

Legolas had not expected these words of his guidance to leave her mouth, and they stalled him in responding, "I only prompted you to realize that which was already inside you. This new path is one you should not fear," he spoke humbly, and did not hide the face that he was touched by her words.

"My only fear is it makes me weak." She looked back on the expanses of land before before adding, "I dedicated my life to perfecting Easterling warfare, devising machines of destruction, and breeding into men the desire to fight to the death. These armies now march on your kingdom, and I am powerless to stop them."

"You should not place these burdens only on your shoulders, nor are you alone in this fight...There is still hope," he told her with conviction, turning her attention back to him.

She searched his eyes, "I know not the nature of the quest you and your companions were on, or in whose hands that task now lies. I can only find minimal comfort in the faith you and your companions place in those hands," she continued with affirmation, "But I have survived with less."

They then listened to the winds rush through the valley below, rustling the grasses and drying the morning dew. Vezely felt warmed by the cloak that now graced her shoulders and encircled her - fine Elven clothe that perhaps held some form of Elvish magic, for her wrists and ankles no longer ached.

After a few moments of silence, Legolas asked calmly, "Why have you shared this with me?"

She knew it was odd of her to suddenly open up, but after their prior argument and all the night's issues, she felt a need to express where she found herself mentally now, "I felt I may have deceived you, for I have not changed much since I was under Sauron."

"I should not have said that before," he apologized concerned.

She shook her head, "You are perceptive, just as Elves are said to be."

"I think you have changed. You are not the same woman I met centuries ago. There remains no evil intent in your eyes," he told her encouragingly.

She smiled slightly, also recalling, "I remember your eyes upon me and I did not forget them through the years. I never expected to meet them again on the edge of Fangorn."

"But they are not the same eyes that look upon you now, for I hold no contempt in my heart for you," he added sincerely.

She smiled warmly, "I said I did not want your forgiveness."

"You cannot always have what you want," he smirked, hoping to liven the mood.

She laughed slightly before saying diplomatically, "Understood." She was smiling inside, for she felt uplifted by hopefully mending her friendship with him and Legolas did the same, for he was grateful for her openness. He no longer needed to unravel her, nor was he concerned with her deviating from this path she had set foot on.

The sun's rays would warm them until it was time for Vez to hold mid-morning council with King Theodon.

"I should go and change," she realized while standing, "I cannot discuss war in such an outfit."

"It does not suit you," he confessed politely after also standing, knowing the dress was not the proper attire for someone as herself.

"You are smart to say so," she smirked, removing the Elven cloak from her shoulders and folding it carefully. She handed it to him with both hands, "Thank you for sitting with me this morning."

As he took it from her, his hand accidentally brushed against hers and they both noted the feelings it caused, "I am grateful to have been invited to."

Vezely would change back into her own attire, now washed and mended thanks to the kindness of Eowyn. Somehow her garments reflected her current position in life: lacking distinctness, as she held no rank or title in the West nor had she for the resistance where the Blue Wizards desired her to learn the humility of following orders. They did not match in color or cultural origin, for while her burgundy pants were Easterling, her navy jacket was purchased in a small town on the borders of Khand, reflecting her detachment from any particular homeland. She looked like a wanderer and was. For only her skin marked her as belonging to the culture of the Balchoth - her tattoos reflected important moments in her life as well as battle chants written in ancient Rhunic script. The Balchoth marked their bodies as the Haradrim did, unlike other Easterling clans. It reflected their brutal, visceral nature, where scars were also signs of prestige. Yet even these tattoos remained covered. She had grown accustomed over the past half-century to being anonymous under nondescript clothing and headgear, covering her origins and her past along with it. Coming West to meet Gandalf obliterated this anonymity, making her again confront who she was and who she was becoming currently.

This morning she would be taking on an important task, and one she would have had in her past, that of discussing war. For hundreds of years she was a general, leading campaigns to build Sauron's armies, bringing the East under his control, fighting resurgences and quelling rebellions under his banner. War was her subject of study, her trade, and once, her only purpose. The great battle for Middle Earth would begin, and while she never expected to be on the defense, the tactical implications of it intrigued her senses. But while she was prepared to tell Theodon of the forces amassed in the East, discussing strategy and tactics with him was not her place. Unless she was asked, she would not offer advice on how to fight this war. Perhaps the Blue Wizards were able to humble her to a small degree.

Vezely met Aragorn at the hall's entrance, he confided that Theodon had not been made aware of the previous night's issue in the stables with Eomer's men. For this, Vez was relieved, for she desired to keep her relationship with the king stable.

The Golden Hall was relatively quiet, though minor provisions were being taken for when they might be called for aid; Thoedon still had no intention of leaving Edoras until the Beacons of Minas Tirith were lit. On a table stationed near the throne, maps and quills were laid out, most providing schematics to Rohan's expansive kingdom. Theodon was preparing to send riders throughout his realm to call able bodied men to report under his banner. Near him stood two elderly gentlemen, Rohan's advisers since the days of his father's rule. Gamling and his nephew Eomer were also nearby, all wearing their swords, and appearing stern as Vezely approached the table. She nodded politely to the king and others.

Keeping a cool demeanor, her eyes glanced through the maps on the table, finding one outlining the expanses surrounding the White City. She brought it to the top of the pile, leaving her finger tips loosely on top of it. She looked at each of the men before beginning, sensing their anticipation. They had never been addressed by a woman about war matters before; she knew this and tried not to let it influence her tone. She began sincerely, "I can tell you what was known before the resistance fell; the information our spies obtained from behind enemy lines. It does not preclude the possibility of plans being changed, but the magnitude of conducting such alterations considering the forces amassed would be a considerable feat."

"We will accept what information you can provide," Theodon stated politely.

She nodded and straightened her posture, "Sauron will send a significant fraction of his legion to Minas Tirith. The siege will most likely begin with the orc armies of Minas Morgul," she pointed to its location on the map. "They are expendable, able to wait out the beginning days of the siege, while chipping away at the city's outer defenses. I do not foresee your Rohirrim having trouble breaking their lines," she praised slightly.

Theodon nodded at this positive acknowledgement, "And Easterlings?" Theodon queried, wondering if Rohan's past enemies would be met again on these fields.

"The majority of the Easterling armies are set to march on Mirkwood and further North," her eyes shifted momentarily to Legolas, "It is the Haradrim who will go South to Gondor."

"Southrons," Eomer remarked, knowing of these men. They were the ancient enemies of Gondor.

Vez nodded, "And they will have Mûmakil."

Aragorn mentioned to Merry quietly, "Oliphaunts." None had seen such beasts West before, though rumors of their size and strength had reached them.

"Our horses can out pace them my lord," the one elderly adviser told Theodon confidently.

"Perhaps, if they are running in the opposite direction," Vezely replied slightly amused at the thought. "The Black Serpent Suladan is a smart general," knowing of the man who led the Harad, "He does not rely on the beast's size alone to do the job as his predecessors once did. Their ankles and tusks will be reinforced with wooden spikes and chains. They are trained well to sweep horses off the ground and trample them with their feet. You may yet dodge their attempts, but over a dozen archers will be perched high in towers on their backs to rain arrows down on you."

"We can bring them down, we have our own archers," the other adviser added reassuringly.

"They are large targets, no doubt, but they are not easily brought down. Arrows shot from below do not penetrate their thick hides," Vezely replied.

"What strategy do you suggest?" Theodon queried.

Vezely was glad to be asked, though she could offer little, "Hold your line and break theirs, aim for their heads, especially their eyes, knock down their drivers, but there is little other advice I can give."

"Orcs, Mûmakil, what else?" Theodon inquired slightly overwhelmed by this information.

"There is one other force that if I were Sauron I would send into this battle," she considered while rounding the table while her eyes perused the map of Pelennor Fields in front of her, suddenly feeling as the general she once was, "This is only intuition, but he has infantry and the Harad's Mûmakil, so he will want balance with horsemen. With the majority of the Easterling forces North, the Variags of Khand, who have maintained their independence despite Easterling consolidation, might yet meet us on the field."

"The Variags?" Eomer questioned with eyes narrowing, not knowing much about them.

"Chariot riders, berserkers, axe-wielders," she listed before looking briefly at Gimli who might appreciate meeting fellow axe-men on the battlefield, "They were once allies of the Wainriders, and for a brief time enemies of the Balchoth. They are not to be underestimated nor is their leader, who is rumored to be one of the undead."

"Undead?" Theodon spoke concerned.

"Sauron's privileged men, given unnaturally long stretches of life to perfect their trade. I don't usually take stock in rumors, preferring to see evidence with my own eyes or hearing the words of those I trust. But the resistance could never infiltrate the Variags' forces to ground them in truth. If this is so, he or she," Vez added 'she' simply to prove a point, "Will be hard to kill, as will the Nazgul, if they decide to join us."

After a moment of thought, Theodon responded, "Chariots," hoping to focus on the province of men, "Good to know, there are strategies for this."

Vez nodded, "Indeed," for she knew many.

Looking over the map in front of him, Theodon continued to take in this content before graciously replying. "All this information is valuable, if we are called to aid Gondor, we will be better prepared for what might meet us. For that, Rohan is grateful."

Vezely bowed her head to him and then acknowledged the other men at the council with a nod, Eomer included. She felt grateful to carry on the resistance's work in some small way.

"And we may again seek your advice," Theodon added after a moment, considering her understanding of warfare should not be devalued or dismissed, though such a request made Eomer and his older advisers shift slightly.

"I would be honored to provide it," Vezely replied slightly surprised, for she could not deny the pleasure holding such council had provided her.

After the meeting, Vezely left the Great Hall to stand on the veranda, facing East, thinking of the lands far away that she knew well.

Meanwhile, Legolas, Aragorn and Gimli convened to discuss the meeting.

"Didn't spare 'em any details, did she?" Gimli gruffly remarked at the magnitude of information relayed.

"One thing is for certain, if Rohan does not ride to aid, Gondor is lost," Aragorn noted concerned.

Legolas shared his concern, "And time is of the essence." The waiting would be difficult for all of them.

Merry made his way to the outside veranda, finding Vez standing there, facing away from him with her arms crossed. She sensed his presence, and spoke to him before he got to her side, "Your friend is lucky Merry, for war will meet him while we must wait with uncertainty."

"If you call that luck," he replied sarcastically.

She smiled at him before asking, "How are your sword skills?"

He had not anticipated being asked about being battle ready, "Practiced," he told her uncertain, knowing they were not warrior-level.

She spoke encouragingly, "Don't underestimate what you can do. You have a distinct advantage of swiftness due to your size, making you twice the harder target to hit."

"For Mûmakil, perhaps," he replied seemingly unconvinced, but inside he felt slightly proud having an acknowledged strength, even if it was not yet fully realized.

"I had forgotten such beasts are only legend here. They are incredible creatures, bred evil by men, though they need not be so," she started to think of their alternative nature, if tamed not for war purposes.

"Are they really as big as they say?" He asked curious.

She looked behind her at the Golden Hall, sizing it up, "This hall may house the height of one."

Merry looked at it wide-eyed, "Indeed they are then," his mind verifying the tales.

"The jungles of the Far Harad are not pleasant by any means, especially when you consider that Mûmakil are not even predators. I am just grateful the Haradrim have not tamed other beasts from it," she told him truthfully.

"It is a far cry from the Shire where we may have pigs the size of wagons, but nothing quite the size of a hobbit hole," he added slightly amused.

Vez smiled, "The Shire? This is where you hail from?"

"Aye, it's not much against the expanses of Rohan or the woods of Lothlorien, but it's home," he declared proudly.

"Sometimes traveling from ones home makes you more appreciative of it, or at least I have been told," she considered.

He couldn't disagree with such an assertion. He then asked, "Do you have a home you consider as such?"

"Not really," she replied truthfully, "I have been nomadic for most of my life, but the East in general is my home, despite being born in the West."

"Have you found yourself more appreciative of the East then?" he queried her further.

It was a question she had to consider, "Maybe, for I have grown more concerned for its future. For if the powers of Mordor are defeated, the East will be in disarray. Peace will need to be reestablished under a different banner." Not wanting to dwell on these thoughts, she asked him, "Tell me of this Shire, where you and Pippin are from, for I wish to know of a place that grows persons of such high spirits."

Merry was appreciative to answer such a request, and grateful not to spend the afternoon alone. He was not sure of his position in what remained of the fellowship now with Pip away, if he would be passed over while all the others left for battle. He felt useless, even if his friends would never say so.

Later that day Vez would find herself back in the Golden Hall to enjoy a modest meal of stew with Merry, spending the meal discussing food and food oddities.

"...I do not understand how hobbits can eat so much and yet be so small," Vez told him in jest.

"And equally undefined is how Elves eat so little and grow so tall and strong," Merry joked undeterred, "Of course, for someone who eats bugs..."

"I never subsisted on bugs!" Vez decried his accusation. "I only mentioned that some taste like chicken."

Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli were soon to join them, after having spent the afternoon discussing the information Vezely relayed to Theodon that morning. They had not expected to find the two of them laughing hysterically.

"Well this is a mighty festive crew," Gimli remarked as they approached, amused at their jolliness.

Their laughter slowly ceased, but their smiles remained. Vez attempted to regain her usual serious composure and found her eyes suddenly locking with Legolas's, whose smile was elicited by viewing the life that was previously radiating from her; a side of her he had not seen, for her cheeks were flushed and she looked generally happy. He noted that it pleased him to see her so.

"Vez here was just telling me that in certain parts of the East, bugs make up the diet," Merry explained, "Can you imagine? And I thought ol' Gaffer's stew was the worst cuisine in Middle Earth."

"It is not common of course, but when the land is barren of all else," she verified, a small smile still on her face.

"That does not sound appetizing," Gimli scoffed sitting across from them, "Nor does this," he added, looking disappointed at the plain stew on the table.

"It too tastes like chicken," Merry blurted, still amused at the previous remark.

Vez started laughing again, shaking her head at the hobbit beside her who amused her so.

"Hmm," Gimli cocked his eyebrow suspiciously, wondering if they had been smoking and drinking.

While eliciting more pleasant exchange on food, it also led to the opportunity for the trio to question Vez further on some finer details she may have elided over, one of which was the Variags and their leader. While she could offer them more information on their tribe, she could not on their leader, nor would she reveal her own suspicion of him being her former second in command. Perhaps she was again presenting herself as detached from the subject; a position noted by Legolas later that evening.


	13. Complicated

The stars were high and Edoras had grown quiet. Vez stood alone on the veranda, facing East in contemplation. She was rolling the gold coin she had won in the gambling match across the back and through the inside of her fingers while contemplating the event that was on the temporal horizon; contemplating whether her suspicions would come true and she would meet her second in command on the battle field in front of the White City. Anger inevitably marked her demeanor, for his betrayal and deeds against her could not be swayed from her mind.

She had trusted Öldür, the Killer, as her second in command for various reasons: he was smart, able to strategize alongside her without fatigue, brutal, for he was of Variag descent, a clan with enough cultural similarities to the Balchoth that Vez felt as with kin, and he was mildly infatuated with her. While she never returned the interest in heart, she used it to her advantage for he often did not question her authority and if he did she could sway him otherwise. She knew she need not play with the hearts of men, for she had enough accrued power from her skill and authority as the hand of Sauron, but she would at times milk the advantages of her race-given fairness if she gauged the situation called for it. At times it even amused her. The "Evil Beauty;" men in taverns would speak of her as such when they had enough to drink.

For this to have backfired was ironic in many ways. For Öldür lusted for her, but lusted for her army and power more. She had underestimated him; growing hubristic in her control and overlooking any possibilities of her position being disposed of by him or by Sauron. She was alone with him before she was taken away to Dol Guldur, after she had been beaten to near unconsciousness by men who proclaimed allegiance. He confessed he had been feeding Sauron information of what he perceived as the weakness of her race - namely her growing desire to avoid spilling innocents' blood. He had his eye on her position for a long time. And so with her body broken, he stole what was left of her dignity, and finished by slicing her ear off, saying, "You will forever remain mine, for none may now look upon you as beautiful." In a way she had remained his, for it was a scar not easily covered, a deed never to be forgotten, and any desire to be looked upon as fair remained dissolved. While destroying Sauron was beyond her skill, snuffing out this man's existence was not. Such thoughts occupied her mind when night fell, and now more than ever.

Legolas would join her side as all the others had fallen asleep, desiring to exchange kinder words again after having mended their friendship that morning. Despite her not being a typical Elf, he did find her company refreshing; having not spent time around his kin since Lothlorien. She understood some of what the others could not, namely the sleepless nights and ageless time Elves endured. Yet it was her atypical nature that he found in many ways more refreshing.

Vezely had stopped her gesture with the coin and clinched it in her fist, turning her thoughts on the noble Elf who now stood beside her. She again was calmed by his presence and the anger that consumed her just prior dissipated. She didn't know what made his company so soothing. With her mind still on the pressing matters, she confessed steadily while scanning the Eastern expanses before them, "There is nothing worse than waiting to ride to war."

"Perhaps, but the company makes such a wait bearable," he replied pleasantly.

She smiled over at him, hoping his words were true, she then said warmly, "I am glad to have your company at night, for I am too often left to my own thoughts."

"Yet rest would also do us well in the coming days," he considered.

She nodded to agree, "It would," then saying in wonder and amusement, "It will be an incredible battle, and one I have been anticipating my whole life, though not from the position I now stand." She turned to him, "It is strange, to look upon ones world from outside it and to know you will meet it again on fields that use to mark the maps of your former trajectory."

"But you stand here with a new purpose and just cause, one already put to service. All are grateful for the information you provided to King Theodon today," he noted appreciatively.

"That was the desire of the Blue Wizards; that I might somehow carry on the resistance's mission. So the West would not underestimate the forces that are coming," she was glad of these tidings, but worried she provided unfounded information, "Though I hope I did not overstep by mentioning my suspicions on the Variags' presence."

"You should trust your intuitions," Legolas told her.

"I am not sure if they are intuitions or strategizing on the part of the enemy," she replied uncertain. "I have heard Elves are perceptive, but I was raised to be pragmatic. If I can't see it, it does not exist. Lives can be lost on intuition alone."

"Besides strategy, what makes you think these forces will come?" he asked, hoping to parse out her feelings on it.

She was uncertain if she wanted to share the details for they were more personal than she liked to admit. Yet, she had bridged into a new understanding with Legolas. She did not need to present herself differently, for he knew where she currently stood on matters and perhaps, he could help her come to terms with these instincts. She recounted, "These thoughts started forty years ago when rumors of the Variags' leader were passed via a communication from our spies in Khand. It was unknown to me at the time that Sauron was bestowing prolonged life to his privileged. I immediately began to wonder why Khand, why have this undead man lead the Variags? But our information was scarce and grew scarcer when the Variags demanded independence from the Easterling Confederation and were quickly allotted it. Their leader must have had enough clout, for other tribes requested and were denied. As I wondered who this leader was, my past continually came to me as an answer, for my second in command was of Variag decent. And the promise of meeting him again has not left me. Are these thoughts in vain?" she queried.

"No, but they are heavy," he replied still considering them, "And if they come into fruition?"

"I will kill him," she declared without emotion looking out in front of her.

"The undead are not easily destroyed," he replied carefully.

She knew this, but it didn't deter her determination in this task. "No, they are not. I do not expect someone of your ilk to understand, but I cannot accept his longevity," she would not explain her conviction.

Thoughts of a number of reasons stalled Legolas in responding, though he could not access this history exactly, he mentioned assuming, "You were close to him."

She shifted her position and crossed her arms, feeling somewhat uncomfortable with the conversation. "In some ways. I foolishly trusted him and he betrayed me," her voice sounded detached, "He took more from me than my ear and my army that night."

He did not question her further, knowing now it was not a polite subject to do so, "I would not deter you from such a path, but hope you will not deny assistance if given."

She nodded, not wanting to linger on the subject she concluded, "These are only thoughts that keep my mind occupied, especially when darkness falls. Premonition or not, this battle will happen. I just have to be the best warrior I can," she confirmed looking at him, lightening her mood.

In solidarity he added, "It is both of our charges."

"Was it always so?" she asked wondering of his past.

"Not always, my father perhaps would have desired me to take a less precarious trade. But with our kingdom being a place in need of such skill, he did not deter me in my path," he recounted.

"And if you return in a time of peace and there is no need for such skill to be sharpened?" she queried, parsing through her own future while doing so.

"Rebuild and tend the woods that bore me. Peace need not be spent inactive, even for someone of my ilk," he retorted amused, noting he had heard her label him as such before.

She smiled slightly embarrassed for perhaps she did take a jab at his prince title, though without ill intent, "Apologies, I did not intend to mock, only acknowledge that our worlds of experience differ so."

"I take no offense, for what you say of our differences is true. Although I am not without ability to be understanding of such experiences if shared," he confided warmly.

"You have already proven this to me. But my past is full of unbecoming experiences and some even I am ashamed of," she paused, not sure if she should say so, "Perhaps, I care how you perceive me."

He liked the thought of this acknowledgement, "You need not step softly, for your past cannot sway me from my current perception," he told her, catching her eyes in his for an elongated moment. It was odd for him to realize he was again drawn to her gaze, and he grew somewhat embarrassed that he had done so. He had told himself not to allow such feelings to overtake him, for where they could lead was uncertain. "Though we need not linger on it this night in hopes of lighter conversation," he tried to break the silence and his gaze from hers, "For I wonder, if peace should find its way into your life, where would you locate yourself?"

Vezely had not considered her future plans in peaceful times, "This is not a comfortable question for someone raised as I. For the Balchoth live and die by the sword. So I cannot imagine myself as anything other than a warrior; even if it was to be so had Sauron not interfered."

"Nor can I," he agreed, though an alternate reality intrigued his thoughts. "You have a general's spirit, as witnessed this morning."

She smiled appreciatively, "I do not deny that I miss such tasks, even if my armies were marching for Sauron."

"You did not a hold a leadership role in the resistance?" he asked slightly surprised.

She laughed at the thought, "No, I held no rank. I had to follow orders, or at least that was the intent of the Blue Wizards. Though I often worked alone, taking on small information gathering missions, interceptions, and the like. I did my job, didn't question authority, well, most of the time," she smirked, "Besides, I was somewhat responsible for the deaths of many of the member's ancestors. For them to follow me, it would not have boded well." She looked at him wondering, "You did not expect this?"

"You mean, you following orders?" He joked slyly.

She laughed, then saying sarcastically, "You are not the first to be amused by this."

"I can imagine," he replied considering, "Though this is not what I expected."

"Though it should be so," she continued more serious, "For it was their fight and I had less heart in being counted amongst them. Besides, the world of men is no longer mine to exist in as such."

He was surprised to hear her say so, though he knew not if she felt she belonged amongst his kin.

She then added, as if knowing what he was thinking about, "Yet an Elvish existence appears overly complicated."

He looked at her skeptically, for it is difficult to view one's own world as such. "Explain what mean by complicated?"

"It is a far cry from living and dying by the sword," she remarked seeming amused. "I cannot yet see myself fitting comfortably within it."

He smiled at her strange thoughts, "You should not forsake what you have yet to experience," though he more so assumed she feared acceptance.

"Perhaps," she then considered what such an experience would curtail. "I was wondering if this night you would be willing to tell me more about Elvish history? For if I remember correctly, at Helm's Deep you were about to detail the ruin of Doriath."

The request was heartwarming to hear, for he enjoyed storytelling and to do so for her, whom the stories had yet to be passed to, brought him joy. As he spoke of this history, of King Thingol and Melian the Maia, their daughter Luthien, her love for the mortal Beren, their son Dior, and the kinslayings and turmoil that occurred in the years between and after, that he realized she did not know her own connection to this history. For it was not until he came to the Sack of Doriath, and later when her father and his twin were taken by the servants of Celegorm and left in the forest to die, that he noted her mind processing the information. "...Elwing, the daughter of Dior and Nimloth, escaped. She would become the mother of Lord Elrond, but the twin sons, Eluréd and Elurín were thought to have perished in the forests where they were left. Your presence proves this was not entirely the case."

She looked at him, her eyes appeared uncertain of how to respond for she was not expecting this dark history to lead to her own. "I did not know," she stated slowly and somewhat bewildered, "The Blue Wizards only specified my connection to Lord Elrond, saying I would come to understand the importance of my lineage in time. But I cared not for the subject, for such connections seemed distant."

"They are important, making you descendant of the High King of the Sindar and of the Maiar," he knew such a connection was not slight. "That is why, as I mentioned before, your bloodline is legendary."

"Tragic is more like it," she scoffed bluntly, seemingly unimpressed by such revelations on the titles of her ancestors, "And my history seems to fit quite well in one that is so full of death and misfortune. Yet it does not explain why my blood father hid his survival from history," she added slightly perturbed.

"Perhaps I should not have been the one to have told you, for I do not hold all the answers," he replied carefully.

"No, I am glad you did," she turned to him, and placed her hand on his side arm, her eyes showing appreciation, "For much more makes sense. I felt unrightfully privileged by those who would redeem me and I knew not why. But it does not make me anymore accepting or deserving of such aid, for blood titles mean nothing to one of the East." She tried not to let her irritation linger and knew there was more history she needed to know. "But the story continues into territory you do know. I did want to know more about Lord Elrond, and if you could share his history, I would be most appreciative?" As she was removing her touch from his arm, he caught her hand in his.

"I will tell you more, but know I believe that you were deserving of such aid, regardless of your bloodline," he told her sincerely, catching her eyes in his and keeping her from speech. He held her hand for reassurance of his words.

While skeptical of such tidings, she could not deny the feelings his touch coupled with these words evoked. "Coming from you, that means a lot to me," she replied wholeheartedly.

"There is yet hope amongst the ill fortune of your history," he added with a look of optimism, before letting go of her hand and continuing the history, "For the bloodline continued anew with Lord Elrond and his daughter Arwen Undómiel..." He explained to her further the founding of Imladris, eventually getting to contemporary concerns, including the relationship between Aragorn and his daughter; now she knew who the jewel around Aragorn's neck belonged to. But inevitably this history would require him to go over the choice of the half-Elven, one which only her bloodline had, for she queried such a relationship and how it would end. Here he was careful with how he worded his explanation.

"Such a choice can be made?" she said skeptically, "Or is it made for you?"

"It said that the choice of kindred can be made by you alone, only when you deem it so," he spoke while trying to grasp her thoughts.

Feeling somewhat overwhelmed by this information, she decidedly brushed them off as insignificant, saying sarcastically, "As I said, an Elvish existence is overly complicated."

He sensed her repressed tension, "It need not be."

She looked out on the expanses again, "True this may be, but it is of no consequence now. To speak of the future amidst the possibility of death," she then laughed slightly while saying, "I may yet end up wandering the Halls of Mandos for my sins are too great."

He looked at her surprised, for he was unaware she knew of the possibility of her fëar being denied entrance to Aman if she were to be killed in battle.

"The Blue Wizards did not speak of the choice of my bloodline, but presented me with where I stood in terms of my sins," she explained further, "I figured it was another means to threaten me into fighting for their resistance, but I was not stirred by it then."

"And now?" he asked feeling slightly sorrowful for her predicament.

A few moments of thought shook her from her previous attempt at detachment; she looked at him, marked strain in her eyes, "I should not have come West, for I feel the weight of this fate upon me."

"I do not believe this fate will be yours," he said calmly, then recalling, "Courage, strength..."

"Death," she spoke this word along with him, quickly recognizing the mantra of her clan.

"But not your own," he added with a small smile, remembering these exact words were a great comfort to him during his moment of despair at Helm's Deep.

"Not your own," she nodded with stirring pride. "You're right, it is not time to despair. We will see this through and then perhaps," she added with slight amusement, "We can truly have lighter conversations."

"I look forward to that day," he agreed truthfully.

"So do I," she replied, feeling strangely hopeful that such a day may come. They stood beside each other until sunrise, taking in the stars before they disappeared in the sunlight. They then parted ways as Vezely went to tend Gizik, hoping to take her for a short ride; for she was a horse unaccustomed to being cooped up in a stable. Upon entering she found Eowyn tending to her own horse.

"Good morning," she greeted her pleasantly, "You are awake early."

"I could not sleep," Eowyn replied with a small smile.

"You are troubled, for these are dark times and dark thoughts are not easily kept at bay," Vezely replied in commiseration. "Come with me for a morning ride, it will help settle your mind."

Eowyn was grateful for the invitation and accepted it, "...We can take Dulsan's Path. I have not been there in ages, for even venturing slightly outside these walls was deemed unsafe. Now our worries are not so close to home."

"Still," Vezely noted, "You should bring along the sword you hid in your horse's stable." For she had seen Eowyn adjusting its location upon entering and rightly assumed she was preparing to take it with her if they would leave for Minas Tirith.

Eowyn looked slightly surprised Vezely had seen her do so, though she held no concern of admonishment and attached her sword to her horse's saddle.

The two women would take a winding path that led behind the stables; it took them down to a back gate and the plains that stretched outside it. Their departure, however, did not go unnoticed by the some of the guards who stood watch over the Golden Hall.


	14. Trail Rides and War Games

Dulsan's Path led them through several small canyon trails and gradually up a mountainside to a vista overlooking the plains north of Edoras. It was a comfortable ride, and easy on their horses, allowing them to chat freely along the way.

"...My father used to take Eomer and I along this path when we were kids," Eowyn remembered fondly, "Some of my best memories were climbing this hillside. Eomer always insisted we'd race to the top, much to the worry of my mother when she found out our routine. She assumed either one or both of us would return haven fallen and broken something, or worse. Though we never did fall, and I often beat him to the top," she declared proudly with a smile.

Vezely was cheered by her memories, for they seemed to represent an idyllic version of youth, "It is good we came," she replied pleasantly, "For these memories are unduly welcomed."

"They are. Like I said, I have not been on this trail in some time, even here we feared orc attacks," she told her still in a light mood.

They dismounted their horses and walked them over to feed on some grass nearby, while they went to the hill's crest to observe the view.

"It is nice to be reminded of my father," she added thinking back, "Of happier times."

Vezely had assumed her parents were deceased, though she knew not the cause.

After a few moments, Eowyn spoke concerned, "He is protective of me. Eomer. I do not blame him, but at times I think he still sees me as that young girl who never failed to follow his request to race him to the top. I do not think he would understand my desire to also protect those I love."

"You mean your desire to fight in this war," Vezely confirmed her intent.

"Is it wrong to hold such ambitions?" she asked for affirmation.

"No, you have every reason to desire so and as much ability to fight as any man," Vezely stated steadily. "It is the expectations of others that hold you from your cause."

"Expectations," she scoffed exasperatingly, "I feel they have led me to sitting idly by while those around me fall into ruin," she thought grimly of Theodon's takeover by Sarumon, her endurance of Grima, and prior, her mother's grief-stricken destruction after the death of her father. "I regret not being a woman of action, succumbing to the cage those expectations would put me in. You are as such, choosing your own path, not caring what others may think."

Vez was surprised to hear admiration, but felt it was misplaced, "Do not envy me, Eowyn. For my own cage extends far beyond the dungeons of Dol Guldur. I have long lived without care, which undoubtedly has its benefits, but it is a lonely road and sparse on comfort. You may have expectations, but they also extend from those who love you."

She smiled slightly while internalizing this truism, "Yet I desire the love of one who would not hold me from my this path."

"Ah, but now you are speaking of a different type of love," Vez replied wondering.

Eowyn smiled slightly embarrassed of her thoughts shifting.

Vez continued, "It is my hope that you find such a relationship where expectations of gender do not follow. Women are often too eager to please men, and men too easily receive. Marriage can be the biggest cage of all if expectations are unequal."

"You speak knowingly," Eowyn wondered.

"I do not," Vez added dryly, "For neither marriage nor love have been of interest. I speak from observation of the fickle hearts of men who treat women as disposable pleasures rather than honorable pursuits. Dishonorable men, dishonorable situations," she then added with a smirk, "Both of which I assume you are likely to avoid in your position."

Eowyn knew not how to respond for such dealings were outside her experience, "I would hope so," she then asked, wondering of her current trajectory, "Though knowing the truth behind another's emotions and whether they hold the same feelings for you remains complicated."

The truth in this observation turned Vezely's thoughts to Legolas, for she wondered how he viewed her, even if her own feelings for him were unclear.

"Apologies," Eowyn spoke politely, noting her friends sudden retreat into her thoughts, "I am going on about such a trite subject at such a time as this. For an Elf, this must seem foolish"

"I do not believe my kindred finds love foolish," Vezely replied sincerely, hoping she did not feel silly for her speech. "From what I understand, love and the marriage bond are sacred and not entered into lightly without equal consideration between partners. Perhaps with even more concern, considering life span." Though information she held on this was sparse, it is what she gathered by the histories Legolas told her.

Eowyn was relieved for her to acknowledge this, but knew not of Vez's position. She asked, "Is it true, that Elves can die of a broken heart?"

Vez looked at her surprised at this suggestion, saying steadily, "This I do not know." The possible truth of it unsettled her.

"It is what I have heard," she answered, "You can only die in battle or of a broken heart. It verifies what you say, that Elves hold such emotions sacred. Yet your own interest remains void?"

"I am not what one would call marriageable," Vezely stated sarcastically, realizing her own take on herself.

"But you are not undeserving of love," Eowyn told her with concern.

Vezely replied kindly, "I will take this assessment with levity from a friend who is kind enough to say so."

"I have seen some affection in the eyes of your companion," Eowyn added speaking of Legolas.

Vez looked at her puzzled, then asking, "You speak of Legolas?"

"You acknowledge it too then?" she asked undeterred, taking the quick response as proof.

Vez shook her head, saying assuredly, "He has been kind to offer me advice and teach me of the history of my kindred, but our differences are far too great and my past far too disruptive for such emotions to take root. His affection is no more than that of a friend, I assure you."

Eowyn thought otherwise, but did not pressure her further about it. Their conversation would turn to other topics before heading back to Edoras that afternoon.

About halfway back, however, they were apprehended by two of Rohan's guards. "Lady Eowyn, we were told to find you and escort you back immediately," the guard spoke with a sense of duty, after given Vez a brief, but stern gaze.

"By whose orders?" Eowyn asked annoyed at having their conversation interrupted.

"Lord Eomer," he replied, straightening his posture.

Eowyn practically rolled her eyes, then looked at Vez, saying to her sarcastically, "I will need to remind myself of the reason for such protection," for she was not happy that her brother had created an issue over her leaving the city with a friend; not to mention a friend whose company provided plenty of protection to begin with.

Vez laughed slightly at her words, though wondered of the fuss such a short trip may have caused. They followed the guards back to Edoras in silence at first, before Vez decided to amuse herself.

She rode Gizik close to one of the guard's horses, her head held high as her eyes roamed over the man's body, as if observing a rare specimen; it made him shift uncomfortably in his saddle. She then brought Gizik around quickly in front of them and slowed her gallop to trot next to the other guard; handling the horse with expert control. Both her and her horse exuded overt authority as she questioned them, "What are your names?"

"Gárbald," the man replied undeterred, with his eyes remaining forward, "And this is Fasthelm." They continued their pace alongside her.

"You look to be able soldiers," she praised them while staying one trot ahead, "How many others were sent?"

"Eight rode out this morning," Gárbald replied solidly.

"Eight?" Vez called back to Eowyn amused, looking back to her. "Brother was worried." Eowyn knew Vezely was having a go with the men. She then asked, "And you two were sent north?"

"That is correct," the man replied, uncertain of the trajectory of her conversation.

"We have been gone since dawn and the sun is high. We did not travel far nor did we take an unknown path. If you were sent north as you say, and have only just now set upon us, there appears a discrepancy in time. Is it that you were skirting orders for a morning's rest?" Her tone and phrasing mimicked a general's, as if an undesirable answer would imbue consequences.

The two soldiers looked worriedly at each other, "That is not the case," Gárbald finally answered.

After giving him a look of overt suspicion, she called behind her, "Eowyn, I feel that it is us who came upon these men, and not the other way around."

Eowyn brought her horse forward, gaining a sense of Vez's mission, "It would appear so, for they have not gone far north if they were indeed sent that way."

"We have been searching, my lady," he replied to Eowyn politely. "I assure you."

"I am not sure if I can return such assurance to my brother," Eowyn told them steadily, then saying with feigned pity, "He is most unforgiving of soldiers who do not follow his orders." This caused the guards to visibly worry.

"We can provide them an option, however," Vez consulted with Eowyn, appearing to consider the guards' plight, "If we return without their aid, we can absolve any discussion of their latency. They can safely say they searched a different path from our own thus avoiding certain admonishment."

"I find that most reasonable," Eowyn replied graciously to her, then telling the guards, "I am happy to offer you both such as option."

The guards searched each other's faces and not seeing any other way, they conceded. Gárbald stated politely, "Gratitude, my lady. That would be most kind of you."

"It's settled then," Vez exclaimed taking her horse out front, with Eowyn following, and then saying dryly to the guards behind her, "I would not return too late if I were you."

While they were some distance away from them, Eowyn spoke in praise, "That was brilliant."

Vez smirked, grateful her scheme worked, "And you played along perfectly. Now we can continue our conversation."

They both enjoyed the moment, musing about the guards' bewilderment, and continued their talk from prior, before Eowyn stated upon view of Edoras, "I have a few words I would like to exchange with Eomer."

"Perhaps we should gauge the extent of the commotion us taking a morning trail ride has garnered before doing so," Vezely replied considering.

"Keep hidden our knowledge of their concern?" Eowyn thought through this suggestion, "Though whatever that concern could be eludes me."

"We may find out sooner than later," Vezely remarked wryly, seeing Eomer leaving the back gate and galloping towards them. She noted he had a most displeased look on his face.

As he approached the two, Eowyn kept her pace and head forward as he slowed his stead to walk beside hers, purposefully ignoring Vez's presence. "You have been gone since dawn," Eomer spoke as if the information was unknown.

"I know," Eowyn stated assuredly, "And it is high noon."

"You presented no one with knowledge of your departure," he added, heightening his tone.

"Yet our departure did not go without notice, even if such information did not come from my own mouth," she quipped back.

"Do you not think through the consequences of your actions? These paths are not safe, you could have been hurt," he stated worried but also slightly angered.

"Hurt?" Eowyn played off the suggestion, "Your concern amuses me brother. Perhaps you should rephrase that with reference to my traveling companion."

Eomer's eyes narrowed on Vez, but did not answer her questions.

"Or is that why there is concern to begin with?" Eowyn was perceptive; she knew Eomer had no trust for Vez.

"I ask," he tried to sound reasonable and lightened his tone, "That you think before you take actions which could concern others."

Eowyn did not reply but trotted her horse slightly faster ahead, leaving Eomer beside Vez, who felt odd as the third party of sibling strife.

"You are a bad influence on her," he remarked to her boldly when Eowyn was out of ear range.

"So are you," Vez replied back just as bold.

"I  _care_ about my sister," he replied to this assertion with conviction, "An emotion perhaps you know not."

She laughed slightly at the remark, but not being deterred by it as an insult she retorted fairly, "Before you assume a mal plot to turn your sister against you, assess that your  _caring_ may not already be doing so."

Eomer internalized this statement as they continued toward the gate, foregoing a reply as Vez continued ahead of him to the stables. Leaving Gizik she returned to their communal quarters finding it empty of her companions, though they had left their weapons. She assumed they had gone for lunch. Instead of joining them, she grabbed her rucksack from the corner, finding her memory book, a badly damaged brush with several bristles missing and a glass inkwell with partially dried ink inside. She placed them on one end of a long wooden table, where spanning much of its length sat Legolas's long bow, accompanied by his quiver set; marked perfection of weaponry and artistry. She momentarily admired its design, looking over the quiver's intricate gold overlay of two intertwined peacocks. She removed her sword from her side and placed it in an open space next to his bow before she sat down; adjusting it so their curves lined up perfectly. She noted she liked the thought of them sitting there together.

Sitting down she opened her tattered book to find several loose folded sheets she inserted in an attempt to keep them flat. They were marked with information concerning the West, from the estimated numbers and projected campaigns of Sauron's forces, time tables and routes to take crossing Rhovanion, to layouts of tentative battlegrounds. Many pages included notes she had written on war tactics and strategy. Finding the yet blank layout of Pelennor Fields she attempted to draw in where she would place the Haradrim and the Variags in relation to the orcs, querying their numbers against Theodon's projections. Her mind filtered through this information and she hastily marked up the map before she was stalled by the river Anduin, snaking across the southeastern corner. It concerned her and she knew not why. With this break in her thought process she looked up again from her paperwork to the weapons on the tabletop right beside her workspace. The detailed carving of silver leaves across the length of Legolas's bow drew Vezely's gaze and her hand stretched from her papers towards it; she felt a sudden desire to feel its grooves. Before her fingertips could touch it, however, her hand was caught by another's.

She looked up to find Legolas smiling down at her, for he had done it again, quietly sneaking into the room without her noticing his presence, making her feel incredibly incompetent in her supposedly superb Elvish senses. Her sharp look showed that she was slightly displeased by this ambush, for which he knew, marked by his sudden superior expression, he succeeded.

Vez smirked while turning her head away from him, and her eyes fell upon her hand still in his, for he had not yet released it. Before words were exchanged, his eyes had moved to the mass of papers she had haphazardly spread across the table. "What is all this?" he asked, still pleased by his victory.

She then realized she had created a bit of a mess with her papers, and she quickly removed her hand from his in order to straighten them into piles. "War games, amongst other notes," she explained, hastily folding a map of Mirkwood, which was marked with similar battle trajectories, in order to place it back into her memory book and out of his sight.

He took a seat next to her, gently sliding his bow to the side. "And this?" he asked, of the book she now held, for it appeared well worn and well traveled.

She looked at him, realizing there was something she desired to question him on, and this current meeting provided the perfect timing. "It is filled with the recollections of my past, all forgotten after my captivity. As my mind refilled and needed a place to pause and reconnect the pieces, I wrote them down in here," she flipped its worn pages, revealing all Rhunic shorthand script, which Legolas could not read despite his vast knowledge of languages. She turned to where she had scrawled Elven script next to the Rhunic phonetics she had deduced from hearing the Forest River's song. "There is something I have been meaning to ask you. I know it is probably not correct…"

He gently took the book from her hands, impressed by the immensity of its writings which filled the entirety of its pages and wondering of the stories it contained. After a moment of reading through her Elvish text, he confirmed the transcription, "You have three-fourths of the song here, but the end is missing."

"Missing? But that is all I can remember hearing. I am sure of it," she told him concerned, looking again over the script she wrote.

"Listen to the Forest River's song. Use not your head, but your heart. Your heart will call you home and there you will stay and weep no more for Autumn's end," he recalled the verse, speaking it softly in Elvish to her. "It is beautiful, is it not?" he asked as she was thinking it through.

She was caught more to the meaning of the words than their beauty; she felt it spoke to her personally. "That it is," her voice spoke meekly.

"Share with me this dream in which you first heard this song," he requested her curious.

She remained unsure of its truth, but explained what she thought occurred, "It was during my healing sleep in Mirkwood. I remember that I awoke ankle deep in warm ocean water with soft white sands beneath me, and waves crashing softly on the shore, but I could not move for fear held me there. Light shone all around me and I could only see the edge of a beach and a blurred darkness beyond. I heard a voice singing this song over and over, but only these verses. I felt connected to it as if I had heard it when I was young. I thought it could be my mother's but I do not have proof. Yet you say it is a song of your people?" she looked at him.

"It is a Woodelf lullaby. Your mother must have been of the Silvan clan. It is more than likely you were born in Mirkwood and taken from there," he considered steadily, "But this was no dream. You were the verge of death, yet not allowed admittance to the Hall of Mandros where your kin are said to meet you. So it may well have been your mother's voice keeping you company there."

She solidified her thoughts, "For so long I wondered…"

"Your transcription is good," he added positively, his eyes going through the script in her book again, "Your writing, however…" he glanced at her mischievously, again hoping to lighten her mood.

She laughed, "I know, it is lacking some grace. I began studying Elvish at request of Romestamo mostly, who said an Elf without knowledge of Elvish would not do. Now I know he was priming to send me West all this time. I remember thinking I could never learn it. The books I was gifted were translations of Elvish into Westron, not into Easterling, complicating my understanding at times. But I suppose, if I find reason to write again, my script could improve." She cracked a smile.

"Do you not enjoy writing poetry?" he asked curiously, for Elves were lyrical beings and enjoyed verse writing.

She laughed slightly at the thought, "I am not one to pause for words or sing songs such as this. Perhaps this is an Elvish trait I do not possess?" She asked wondering.

"It is rare," Legolas remarked seeming slightly surprised by this difference, for he never met an Elf who did not have an interest in the beauty of forming words or singing songs, "Yet you are unlike any Elf I have ever met," he added.

"Do such differences concern?" she added curiously.

"Not at all," he replied politely with a slight smile.

She returned his demeanor, adding reasoning to her differences, "It is not that the Balchoth have no songs or write no verses. My childhood was spent fighting, playing war games, riding. And I admit, I wanted to disassociate with what I knew were Elvish traits."

He looked at her curiously, "What do you mean?"

"Most speculated I was one of the Dark Elves of Dorwinion. Easterlings appreciate their wine, but not their ways. There is widespread distrust of Elves in Rhun," she said thinking of what often allotted her an outsider status.

"Distrust you inevitably also carried," he thought back to their first meeting.

She took her book and closed it, "I had no reason to trust my kin or any desire to be amongst them. Mirkwood was my first encounter with Elves, and it unsettled me in more ways than I'd like to admit. I remember uncomfortably thinking that your realm was perfect in terms of living with nature."

"There should be no other way to live," he replied proudly. "Another reason why I would not settle into palace life and preferred patrolling with the Woodland guard."

"Your father's court is built in those caverns I awoke in, is it not?" she asked.

"That is correct," his eyes showing some suspicious of how she knew this.

"Apologies, information gathered for tactical purposes long ago," she said quickly, somewhat ashamed of her former mal intent.

"And is it on that map you folded earlier?" he asked with an eyebrow raised.

"I cannot get anything passed you," she stated wryly.

"No you cannot," he agreed confidently.

"I thought I would spare you such details," she pulled the map from the back of her book, and handed it to him. He unfolded it and placed it on the table in front of him. His home territory was meticulously sketched out, but partitioned into segments with symbols of the armies who would descend upon them. His eyes parsed through the troop numbers, which were legible, being similar to common script. The forces were substantial and his heart immediately sank for his people.

She added carefully, "They intend to raze it and the forests of Lothlorien to the ground. To smoke out the Elvish armies and level the playing field." After saying this, she noted his solemn demeanor and placed her hand on top of his for comfort, gripping it slightly, "I am sorry," she consoled.

Her touch uplifted him, and he turned his gaze to hers, "The forest can be re-grown, and lives not lost, re-sown. We will return there one day, and we will both be comforted by the Forest River's song."

All emotion drained from her face, for she had not expected this reply. The possibility of returning to Mirkwood was something she could not fathom coming true and if it did, she felt unworthy of admittance. She slowly removed her hand from his but he caught it in his own. Concern for her reaction marked his face, "Did I misspeak?"

"No," she spoke quietly, her eyes strained, "But talk of such a future stills my heart."

He would not let go of her hand, despite her light attempt at release. He pulled her hand gently towards his chest, cradling it there; he sensed her feelings of unworthiness and it pained him. "I would have it beat again with life anew. Do not fear a future where you are allowed such comforts."

Confused at his intent she replied bluntly, "Do not waste breath saying things out of pity," she could not accept his words or touch as anything else.

"It is not out of pity that such words are formed," he replied, saddened that she thought so. He could sense her mind questioning his words and his touch, making him do the same. He desired her to trust him, to know his care for her ran deep. _How deep?_  He queried this again, and realized the feeling pulsing between his hand and hers was more than a touch felt between friends. The rationalist in him could not deny it any longer, for he knew he looked upon her as more than a friend and all the complications and discrepancies which inevitably marked any actualization of this emotion faded when he looked into her eyes.

"Then why do you touch me like this?" she asked quietly and with concern, inquiring not only about his words but his hand still intimately holding hers. For she remained just as uncertain of his intentions as when he allowed her sleeping body to rest against him that evening during their return from Isengard; after they had shared details of their youth.

Before a response could be gathered, a slight, intentional cough broke them from their intimate gaze. Gimli had returned from lunch, followed closely by Merry, who was rubbing his pleased stomach before seeing the couple. Their appearance caused Vez to remove her hand from his and grab the map in front of them in order to refold it. "Good afternoon," she greeted them, as if nothing was out of order.

Legolas smiled slightly at the duo; disappointed that such a moment was broken though he knew not where it could have led. After just having settled his own feelings, a new worry entered his mind that perhaps she did not feel the same.

"Afternoon," Merry replied still cheered by the food, "Glad to see you weren't reprimanded by Eomer's guards." While they had heard the slight commotion given over Eowyn and Vezely's departure this morning, they all felt the worry was misplaced and were not concerned about whether they would return.

Vez smirked, then saying dryly, "I am surprised he sent eight guards to find us and we only came upon two and on the way home, no less. Doesn't fair well for soldier competence."

"You were not escorted back by two guards," Legolas queried, having noted their return from afar.

"No we were not," Vez told him slyly, avoiding eye contact, "For despite their orders, we desired to continue our journey and conversation back here in private."

"You didn't?" Merry asked intrigued.

Vez raised one eyebrow up, "We didn't what?" She waited a moment before saying proudly, "No, not by force, simply the wit of two women."

"Trouble as always," Gimli replied gruffly under his breath before going to take a seat at the table which was cluttered by weapons. Looking over them he said sardonically, "Hmm, Elves must believe their weapons are too good to be placed on the floor."

Vez laughed slightly, while Legolas replied to his friend pompously, "If you were given an axe by the Lady of Lorien, you would not want to place it on the floor either."

"Is that where it's from?" Vez asked curiously, as she reached over to remove her sword. "Lothlorien, I mean," for she did not want to seem nosy in inquiring as to why it was gifted.

He nodded in confirmation, before Gimli mused in awe, "Aye, and there we looked upon the fairest in the land, and whose golden tresses I shall never forget."

Vez cocked one eyebrow up, looking at the Dwarf as if he was a creature from another realm. Before she said something admonishing, however, Legolas asked her, "Do you know of Lady Galadriel?"

"I have heard her name in reference to the White Council," Vezely replied, "She is a bearer of one of the nine rings, but that is all I know. But she must be powerful if a Dwarf speaks of an Elf in such a way."

Realizing this, Gimli shifted his posture before Legolas added, "We spent some time there during our journey; a momentary respite from the troubles that continually overtook us."

"And then the troubles of eating only lembas started," Merry added unimpressed as a hobbit would be of meals lacking variety. Patting his full stomach from lunch he added cheerfully, "So glad to be back to real food."

"Can't disagree with that," Gimli conferred, pulling a toothpick from his pocket.

Vez smiled at their comments before she went to place her sword in the corner of the room near her rucksack. She realized again she knew little about the journey of this fellowship, and who they met or lost along the way. She felt strange asking details, however. Despite her time amongst them, she still felt as she did when they first met; that if she over inquired, it would imply she was a spy for Sauron. So much rested on the One Ring, and the task her companions set out on and the two that continued that journey. Keeping disinterested in specifics seemed preferable, as her own tasks were enough to occupy her mind.

"Those leaves on your bow mimic the leaf that clasps your cloaks," she noted while coming back to the table.

"Those were also gifts," Legolas stated, now admiring his bow in his hands.

She sat back down next to him, and he handed the bow over to her, which she took gently, surprised he allowed her its touch. "It is a bow of the Galadhrim, strung with a single strand of Lady Galadriel's hair, said to give strength and speed to the arrows it assists." He watched enchanted as she admired its details, watching as her fingers trail over the length of its carvings. He knew she had desired to do so before he stopped her.

"It is finely crafted indeed. A beautiful tool of death," she praised; a description which he had not heard before. Gently handing it back to him, she still did not look at him directly, for thoughts of their prior interrupted conversation forbid her.

Gimli who was busy picking his teeth, found himself charmed and amused by the relationship he saw forming between them; for he had noticed his Elf friend's interests before. Merry meanwhile took an interest in the map of Pelennor Fields which was laid out in front of him.

"Reminds me of a board game," he considered, his eyes parsing through the blocks drawn throughout.

"War is a numbers game," Vez responded with interest, turning towards him.

"A numbers game?" Merry asked. "Like with maths?"

She nodded, "Statistics. You can calculate with almost certainty which side will win."

"You mean, by which side has the most number of soldiers," he rejoined, trying to follow.

"Not exactly," she replied, thinking through how to best explain it. "It is not just how many each side has, but the value of each of those soldiers. For example," she pointed her fingers to a diagram she drew on the map, "Horsemen are worth more than foot soldiers, archers worth more than swordsmen at the beginning of the battle, less at the end, the number of catapults and cave trolls also factor in...You also need to consider everything from the field's terrain to the weather that day. With enough information calculated, you can speculate precisely which side will win."

"That's impossible," Gimli remarked skeptically, having listened to her explanation, "Not to mention, battles are often won despite the odds."

"And those battles become legendary," Vez agreed, "But only because they are few and far between." She looked at the map in front of her again, speculating as if to herself, "And I have a feeling even they can be explained with numbers."

"How?" Gimli baulked undeterred, for all three of them remained skeptical of her methodology.

"An example from history then," she unfolded and turned over another parchment she had, leaving face up the blank side. She grabbed her brush and inkwell and went to work, "The battle of Ester Ridge. Three hundred of my best soldiers against a two-thousand strong horde of Dusterns..." She began drawing schematics of the battlefield which was easy enough to recall, while explaining the weaponry, the skill of her own soldiers compared to theirs, the slope of the terrain being in their favor, and the mid-day's sun causing her soldiers' armor to glint in their opponent's eyes. Providing a numerical value to each and calculating probability, the numbers came out in her side's favor. "...Most generals would avoid what on the surface appears as impossible odds. But the numbers don't lie and I took that risk. We ended up destroying them with minimal loss," she said gazing over what she drew, appearing overly absorbed in her musing and proud of her past accomplishment.

"I never heard war deduced this way," Legolas added steadily, considering her methods; it was slightly unsettling for him.

"It has become part of the advancement Easterling warfare. No longer the barbarian hordes of old, but the methodical and technological ascendance of technique over might," she explained. "It is a more sophisticated warfare."

"That reduces men to numbers," Legolas retorted sarcastically.

She noted his discomfort, and hoped it did not bid him further ill perceptions of her, agreeing, "Of course it does. An unfortunate necessity of an immense standing militia. The goal of a general is always to keep those numbers high."

"I can see now why you had no time for songs or verses," he replied politely to her, referring to their past conversation.

A smile graced her face, as she noted he was true to his word of not having the acknowledgement of her past disrupt his current friendship with her; she was grateful for this and showed it in her eyes.

Breaking the moment, Gimli queried, "Do you think you can do that numbers trick with what lays before us?"

"There are too many uncertain variables," Vezely replied considering, "I would need more information and time to run through everything."

He laughed, "See, it comes back to uncertainty. The Dwarf way is the best way, just show up and fight."

Vez smirked at his suggestion, though thought it best to leave him skeptical rather than persuade him of her means.

Merry then added, still interested in the methods, "Does something like a good omen effect odds?"

"Definitely, morale is important for a soldier's strength and endurance," Vez replied, impressed by his thoughts. "This can be before or even during the battle. It is always open to chance or," she then stated amused, "It can be fabricated."

"An omen fabricated?" Merry replied equally amused at the thought, he then said rubbing his hands, "The possibilities are endless."

"Indeed," she smiled amused, "If only I had my game board from youth, I have a feeling you'd enjoy playing a match. I sense hobbits are clever folk."

"Depends on the hobbit," Merry remarked assuredly.

Aragorn soon called upon Legolas, and the Elf would leave the three to what he deemed an odd conversation as Merry and Vez conversed on strange strategies and stranger practices amongst their cultures, with Gimli becoming a third voice speaking only proudly of Dwarvish customs. It was as if they were determined to pit race against each other in oddness.

* * *

"It is taking time," Aragorn spoke concerned, filling his pipe as they stood outside on the veranda.

"Gandalf should be nearly there, the beacons will be lit," Legolas confirmed comfortingly, for he could sense his friend's worries.

He nodded grateful for his comforting words, he then asked, realizing he had not been attentive to his companions, "How fairs the wait for you?"

"It is fairing," he told him steadily, though with a hint of uncertainty.

"You have mended your relationship with Vezely?" he asked carefully, knowing they had spent time together but not checking in on his companion's feelings since the night they returned to Edoras.

"Yes, we are again affable," he answered, hiding that he was considering it.

"That is good, for I know she caused you some distress," he replied filling air, uncertain he'd want to add anything else.

"It was not distress," he conceded after a second more of silence, "It was my own misinterpretation of my feelings for her."

Aragorn looked at his friend curiously, wondering what he meant. He then inquired, invoking the same line that Legolas had asked him when he decided he had fallen in love with Arwen, "You have settled then?"

Legolas smiled in acknowledgment of the phrase he recognized from their history, for it was during a time of relative peace and the beginnings of their own friendship. "I am settled that such feelings exist," he spoke as if it was a revelation, but then added uncertain, "Yet such a relationship may not."

Aragorn breathed in the air while considering this, "I can see there is much to hold it back."

"Her own feelings for me are one amongst many," Legolas added solemnly, "She is not easily read, nor do I believe she will simply accept the feelings I offer. And even if she does and we survive this war, I cannot foresee a future without difficulties."

"Love is distress of its own making," Aragorn commiserated, for while he experienced love with Arwen, the future of that relationship also hinged on the edge of a knife.

"That it is," Legolas agreed, "And this all remains unexpected."

"As for me to hear of it, for you had long forsaken love for a life of solitude," thinking back to his declarations.

"And I remained certain of that path until recently. Our meeting again may have been foreshadowed long ago. Her memory never did leave me, regardless of the ill events that her appearance invoked," he stated calmly, before adding sarcastically, "My father suspected a connection, as usual."

Aragorn smiled amused by this, "If this is true, perhaps fate is on your side."

Legolas internalized these thoughts, gaining some semblance of possibility from them, yet actually confronting Vezely with any desire to settle their feelings eluded his horizon. He knew not what steps to take.

The afternoon would turn into evening and the group would find themselves at a modest feast in the Golden Hall, accompanied by Eowyn. There they would take turns telling tales from their respective cultures, passing the night over good food, good conversation, and good ale.


	15. Past Lives

...The smirk on Vez's face grew as she heard Gimli finish his tale on the death of the Dwarf enemy Azog, the Defiler, and a slight chuckle delightfully left her lips followed by her thoughts made vocal, "So that is how the bastard met his end."

All eyes turned to her, and she met them with an overly smug look on her face.

Gimli asked surprised, "You knew this pale orc?" For Vezely had remained quiet when the tale was being told, desiring not to project her past into the present; but to hear of Azog's demise and in such a way amused her.

Vez's pleased smirk did not leave as she replied, "I had the displeasure of holding council with him before he was sent West. Always liked to complicate things, create problems when there was none. It does me well to hear of his disposal by your kin."

"I often forget you've held some dark company," Gimli remarked gruffly.

Vezely shrugged, "And tales of which I fear if spoken would harbor me ill will, for I am the villain in them."

"Then would you share with us the story of Vezena?" Eowyn spoke up among them, remembering before Vez had mentioned her namesake. "Of this woman warrior you are partly named after?" Eowyn desired to hear such a story, for the night had offered tales of only great men.

Vez smiled, pleased of Eowyn's remembrance and the chance to tell such a tale. She nodded politely, "If others desire to hear it, for it an Easterling tale and may require some additional cultural translations."

"I'd be interested in hearing more about Rhun," Merry remarked curious.

"It would do us well to hear of someone none of us know," Aragorn replied politely.

"Aye, give it to us lass, we'll follow," Gimli added moderating, for his tales had been center stage that night.

She nodded, and glanced at Legolas briefly before starting, who appeared interested as well. "Alright. Vezena...legend says her chariot was pulled by dragons, but such is the domain of myth and there is an underlying reality of her greatness and why her legend is still told to Easterling children to this day. At the end of the Second Age, Easterlings were not a settled race. They were dispersed in small tribes throughout Rhun. You have probably never heard of the Kreshtan and for good reason, for today they do not exist but once they were intent on extending their power and marching their armies throughout the East, assaulting and assimilating tribes into their fold. A small alliance of warriors from the lower lands of Rhun stood up to the Kreshtan, but they were slaughtered for they were no match for their invested skill. Among the warriors killed was Vezena's father, the leader of her tribe. Now, the Kreshtan were gracious, they offered terms of peace to the defeated, but did so under superstitious threat for they had sent the dead warriors' bodies back to their people, but without their heads. Of which they had formed a wall of guarded pikes stretching throughout the lands they conquered."

"That is awful," Eowyn responded with her nose scrunched slightly, being fully engaged in the story, as was Merry, who unabashedly enjoyed darker stories.

She nodded, and thinking she would need to explain further. "It is actually a graver offense than it appears. For many in the East believe that one's soul cannot pass into the afterworld without burning the entire body within three days of its passing. To use this as strategy proves the Kreshtan were ahead of their time," she then added nonchalantly, "For it is a rather effective means to conclude negotiations and alleviate the need to burn infrastructure."

"You speak from experience lass," Gimli blurted wryly, raising one eyebrow.

She smirked, realizing she did, "Sometimes means justify the ends and using people's superstitions against them may result in quicker surrender, perhaps even in less deaths," she adjusted her position slightly, noting the wide eyes of Merry as she did. "But I digress for I was not going to tell a tale about myself."

"Aye, continue on," Gimli conceded.

"So, as the elders discussed surrender, Vezena, crouched over the headless body of her father, saw a vision of what her people could become if they found the strength to stop the line of pikes from forming throughout her homeland. It was not an argument easily won for all feared for the souls of the fallen and for their own if they should also fall. But her resolve did not wane. It is said she burned with the determination of the sun and those before her were sparked by her rays to not fear for the dead when the living were under threat. She amassed a small army to confront the Kreshtan. They wore all their gold and dressed in their finest silk, as if it was to be their last day on earth. And there, on the lower land fields, they would defeat the Kreshtan against staggering odds and Vezena would unite the lower land tribes to form the great kingdom of Wainriders. To this day, Easterlings wear their gold into battle, and they make offerings to the sun's mother, for that is what her name means."

"Oh ho ho, that is a good tale," Gimli exclaimed, pleased.

"It has offered further understanding of Easterling culture," Aragorn nodded graciously, and then asked, "And you are named after this warrior?"

"Partly. The Balchoth are descended from the Wainriders, and their children are often given half-names in remembrance of warriors past. I was honorably given the title of sun, from Vezena," she replied, not sure if she wanted to divulge her full names meaning.

"And what does the rest of your name mean?" Eowyn asked politely.

She looked around at her friends before answering, feeling slightly apprehensive, "Vezely roughly translates in Westron to the setting sun, the sun in the West. It held meaning of my purpose, for the promise Sauron had provided the Balchoth, to lead them in taking over the lands West of Rhun."

"Meanings can be re-forged," Legolas added encouragingly, noting her prior apprehension.

She smiled at him appreciatively and he smiled back at her; their warm gaze seemed to fade out the present company. A moment all picked up on. Gimli glanced over at Aragorn and they exchanged a non-surprised look.

Merry added intrigued, "I kinda wanna hear more about that war strategy."

"You would," Vez chuckled knowingly at the hobbit, whom she had spent the afternoon discussing war strategies with.

"Before we digress into cutting men's heads off," Gimli added gruffly at the two misfits, "I'm getting some sleep. I've had enough ale and good stories for one night."

"Probably a good idea for all of us. Even you, Merry," Aragorn added kindly to the hobbit.

"Right, right," Merry accepted, still amused.

As they exchanged their good nights and slowly left for their beds, Vez knew she would inevitably be left aside Legolas, who she had not been alone with since the afternoon when much was left unsaid. A knot in her stomach grew and she felt flustered on how to approach the subject, or to approach it at all.

Yet such a decision would not need to be made, as Legolas suggested to the group, "Perhaps I will also rest, for a night to do so may not come for some time."

"Vez?" Aragorn inquired if she also would join them.

"Probably a good idea," she replied politely, wondering whether Legolas had decided to do so in order to avoid an inevitably awkward conversation.

She had not slept in the same quarters as the group thus did not have a space allocated as her own and instead she went over to the corner where her rucksack and sword were placed, removing her scarf from her neck, though not noticing that her presence made some of them uncomfortable when going to remove their outer layer of garments.

Gimli coughed, "Let us know if you need your space lass."

Vez turned to the Dwarf unsure what he meant, then noticing they were all staring at her as if equally uncertain of how to proceed undressing around a woman, she realized with a slight chuckle, "Perhaps it is I who should give you space, for I know not the West's idea of modesty. Go ahead, Master Dwarf," she said turning her back on him, trying to hold in a laugh, "I will not look upon you in your undergarments and I will equally spare all the sight of my bare skin."

"Hmm," was all the Dwarf could fluster. Despite his attempt at politeness, Gimli knew she was mocking him.

Aragorn went over to her with a pile of blankets in his hand, his face appeared amused by her comments, "Sleep well," he stated politely offering them to her.

"Gratitude," she nodded amiably, again surprised by the kindness of kings, even would-be kings, in this land. She took the blankets and laid them out on the floor below. She did not remove her outer layers, for underneath her jacket was nothing but a fitted leather bodice with thin shoulder straps, leaving her decollage, upper back and arms completely bare. It undoubtedly showed more skin than such noble beings were use to, or at least, that is what she gauged of the West's modesty. She had lived and fought in less than they slept in. She also decided to leave her boots on, for she felt that sleep may not find her and she did not want to cause any more noise if she were to decide to go outside. She lay down on her side, facing the wall next to her, giving the group their privacy while closing her eyes and trying to clear her mind.

Her thoughts inevitably drifted to earlier that day, however; to Legolas holding her hand close to his chest and saying he desired to be comforted with her by the Forest River. It was more than a polite touch between friends, which she knew they had shared. Was it pity as she assumed? Such as the comfort given to a child who has fallen and hurt themselves, or was it something more affectionate? And if it was, did she desire such a relationship with him? Love had never been a word on Vezely's register, but suddenly she comes West and it continues to find its way into her conversations. Eowyn surprised her by bringing it up this morning. She had also said something that disturbed her - that Elves can die of a broken heart. Was such an absurdity, for it seemed so to someone raised as a Balchoth, true? For she had heard her whole life, admonishingly, that Elves were an emotionally fragile race. She now wondered whether the concern Romestamo and Morinehtar seemed to pay tending to her, and overhearing them speak of their surprise at her survival in the dungeons, was also due to this assumption. And if an Elf can die of a broken heart, would she allow Legolas to love her and thus cause him to despair if she met her assumed fate. For her, such a relationship could not lead anywhere positive. But despite stopping here, she continued her thoughts on the logistical issues of such a relationship: "He is honorable, a king's son, and pure of body and mind. I served Sauron and am corrupted in mind and body. What kind of love would he expect? I would not be marriageable." Or at least this is what she assumed in his society - that love equated marriage, even though she knew little about Elvish partnerships other than from information gathered on them via brief snippets of Elvish history. "Besides, maybe he is already married. Perhaps, he has an Elf maiden at home; a fairer being who maintains the family line with some sense of propriety. ...For he is simply too perfect not to be attached to someone." She suddenly realized how odd it was for her to be milling over such notions of love and marriage, which for her connoted weakness; and furthermore to be focused so much on one person. She felt like slapping herself hard, and would have if not for being where she was.

Meanwhile, Legolas removed his outer tunic glancing over to her form briefly, noting that her prior mention of her bare skin caused him to think indecently. Lust was not a common emotion for Elves, and their libidos often diminished over their life span. The norm of marriage early in life would fulfill their sexual desires for the later years. Yet his decision to forgo marriage meant he was left with an empty bed, and empty experience. For Elves, however, this held less concern than for Men. But to suddenly have such thoughts surface, made him slightly unsure of how to react to them. These thoughts went beyond simple appreciation of looks, for he had seen many beautiful Elf maidens in his years, but none whose appearance was worthy of further consideration. Vez was definitely not conventionally beautiful to Elvish eyes. Elves held a special attraction to long hair, and her short locks and missing ear tip would be completely off-putting if not for the shape of her face, the freckles spanning the bridge of her nose, and the depth of her eyes, which were blue but with muted greens and golds. Her black liner and small gold rings in her ears gave her an exoticness which he knew added to his interest. But as her bare skin passed through his mind again, he thought, perhaps such impolite thoughts should not be had when he knew not how she felt. He would close his eyes and attempt to clear his mind, knowing rest was necessary for the battle to come.

Minutes passed and Gimli's light snoring filled the quarter's darkened silence. Vez finally managed to settle her mind enough to drift off, but dreams would take her to her past, recalling moments of identity crisis.

"You are Vezena reborn," the black haired woman proclaimed proudly, presenting her a sword engraved with words she also spoke, "'Fear not the destruction of your soul, instead fear defeat in life.' These are Vezena's words and words the Balchoth live by. Carry them on your weapon and fulfill them in life, and you shall not be ashamed."

The youth took the long curved blade, her eyes running with the glint of the sun that ran over its length. "I will make my ancestors proud and my people prouder," she declared confidently, finding comfort in her mother's eyes before the dream shifted to an outdoor arena, and she noted she was still gripping the hilt of the same sword, now attached at her side. Her eyes narrowed onto a man who was her father's younger brother as he menacingly paced back and forth in front of her, addressing the crowd of her clansmen who had gathered for the challenge.

"She is not a Balchoth," the large, bare chested man spoke assuredly, his voice ascending high and loud, "Pointed ears, eternal youth, her blood is not our blood. Sauron deceives us with this gift. He deceives us into believing we cannot complete our destiny on our own. That we would need the help of this outsider." There were enough of his supporters in the crowd to make the atmosphere tense, for all feared a rebellion would take place if Vezely lost.

"Are you finished?" Vezely asked confidently, her voice also ascending over the crowd, as she was undeterred by her uncle's mutiny. "I do not want to spend my afternoon listening to your insolence. Are you going to challenge me for the title, or not?"

He smirked, for he had been preparing for this moment since his brother's death, causing the tribe to split over their loyalties. "Yes, I challenge you."

Vezely placed her fist to her chest and bowed her head slightly, saying with feigned respect, "And I accept. Choose the weapons."

He moved closer, "The scythe," he called out to the crowd, before directing his words to her only, "I know you well. You will not defeat me with this weapon."

She breathed in his foul breath, replying steadily with her eyes forward, "We will see."

She removed her belt and sword, along with her jacket. Her leather top underneath allowing for a proud display of her upper back and arms which were marked sparsely in the black ink of Rhunic script; the runes lining her upper arm to represent the defeat of past challengers were slowly adding up. She had hoped to be past such matches and to have moved forward into preparing her people to settle West into Calenardhon, but the transition period between her father's death and this moment remained incredibly unstable. She hoped by putting her uncle in the grave, his rebellion would lose any chance of takeover and she could fulfill Sauron's demands.

But before blows could be made, the dream shifted to the end of the fight, she tasted her own blood in her mouth as she found her hands covered in her uncle's. She stood from her position crouched over his severed body, finding the crowd silent and awaiting her motion.

"I am a Blachoth," she raised her voice with pride, "Question this again and I will send you to your forefathers." She raised her blood soaked weapon and the crowds' voice ascended with it.

The dream then placed her centuries forward on Ester Ridge; to after the battle she had predicted her victory prior by calculating statistics. It was the same battle she outlined earlier that day to her current traveling companions as proof of her effective war methodology. Dressed in full Easterling battle gear, her black lined eyes scanned the once green fields, now littered with bodies soaked in dirt and blood. The smoke of previously set fires due to her bold use of blasting powder, continued to smolder, muting all into a gray haze.

"General," a young officer approached her, and nodded respectfully before being bid to continue, "We have captured thirty Estens who escaped the fields. They are pleading for terms of surrender."

Instead of responding, she breathed in the cool air; the sensation matched her cool demeanor as she replied, "Terms of surrender?" she suddenly appeared slightly amused, "There is enough wood for crosses. That ridge," she tilted her head up as her eyes looked towards the top of the field's crest, "I expect it lined with their crucified bodies by nightfall."

The young officer nodded respectfully again before leaving with her grim task.

Behind her stood Vez's second in command at that time, stationed in front of a table strewn with maps of the region they were marching through. She turned to him, validating her decision by saying confidently, "We need to send a message to other clans in this region."

"Agreed," the man conceded, for they were being met with a high amount of hostility there in their efforts to gain allegiances for Sauron, "And we should move eastward," he added calmly, his eyes scanning the maps in front of him. "There is a small colony of Dorwinion Elves there, who we should not find issue destroying."

Vez raised one eyebrow up, "Our mission is not east, but north. I will not deviate from our path to destroy settlements on a whim."

The man looked at her skeptically, "Sauron would find no qualm in our destruction of Elvish territories," and then added, "And one of such small scale would not endanger troop numbers."

"We are already stretched thin, and I intend to keep north," she replied bitterly, displeased by his attempt at persuasion.

"You were less concerned before this battle, despite the odds," he noted dryly, believing that her refusal to take on Elves had other motives.

"This was our course, beside the calculations didn't lie," she knew fighting this battle considering the numerical imbalance was risky. "No, we keep north, out of Dorwinion Elf territory."

"Your allegiance to your own race finally shows," he stated displeased while slightly shaking his head and forgetting his rank for a second later his feet were kicked out from under him and her boot smashed into his throat.

"You forget your place. Question my allegiance or my decisions again and you will also find yourself on that ridge, as an example," she spat angrily amidst his distressed attempt not to be crushed.

Before removing her boot, the dream shifted and she found herself amongst a fire gutted village on a mountain top in the Nurunkhizdin; one which her armies torched the night before. She loathed the need to burn infrastructure, but the town's insurgence left her little choice. By her side was her second in command and later betrayer, Öldür, as confident as she as they surveyed the damaged. Commotion from her soldiers shifted their attention to a half-burned barn, where they dragged three small children alive from the wreckage. Terrified, the youth huddled together; tears soaked their faces, for they had seen much the previous night.

"Kill them," Öldür commanded perturbed, finding their survival a bad omen. Immediately the soldier nearest to them unsheathed his sword.

"Wait," Vezely demanded, walking over to the group of pathetic beings. She used her index finger to lift the one child's wet chin, causing her tear filled eyes to look upon the woman general. As Vezely observed the little one not yet four years of age, she appeared stone cold and completely unmoved by the child's plight. Saying equally stolid, "That is not necessary. They will die of their own accord."

Öldür's eyes narrowed at his commander, but conceded to her wishes.

As they walked away, leaving the children to fend for themselves amongst the ruins, he commented, "You are getting soft. Your blood has weakness."

She laughed slightly, "Your superstitions are your weakness," for she knew too well that it lay behind his desire to have the children killed and part of her stopped the incident simply to spite him.

The dream again moved to a few months after her captivity in Dol Guldur. With a blanket over her shoulders and a half-filled tea cup in front of her, Vez sat in a room alone in Romestamo's small abode on the outskirts of Rhun's vastest desert. She overheard Romestamo's conversation with his companion wizard in the room next door; realizing she was the topic she listened in with her keen hearing.

"...But she has not despaired, I have never heard of such foul deeds done to an Elf who didn't die of grief or need to sail to the Utter West immediately after," Romestamo confided intrigued.

"Her resilience to this is astonishing no doubt, but considering her upbringing," Morinehtar reasoned calmly.

"Environment over blood, interesting, interesting," the wizard exclaimed, rubbing the palms of his hands together fascinated by its implications.

"Yet we cannot allow her to continue denying her bloodline, for there is no hope for her redemption otherwise," Morinehtar reasoned back, knowing his companion was often overly giddy by the unexpected.

"The topic is not easily received," Romestano replied concerned, for he was often shot down by her for his interest in her Elvish background. "We will need to ease her into it slowly..."

The dream again shifted to the time after the fall of the resistance, to the black void of the desert at night. Romestamo said to her in a hushed and hurried voice, for their position had been compromised, "Ride West, to outskirts of Fangorn Forest. Seek out Gandalf, member of our order, give him all the information our cause holds."

"Why do you send me on this task?" Vez asked skeptically while quickly saddling her horse and attaching her rucksack. She did not expect to be given such an important mission, since she was often relegated to mostly menial tasks for the resistance.

"It is the path you must take, one I have been preparing you for," he told her assuredly, "An opportunity to confront your past, to restart your future."

Her eyes narrowed, for his riddle unsettled her, "Fangorn Forest is located in the kingdom of Rohan."

"And there you will ask for forgiveness from their king," he replied quickly, undeterred by her skepticism.

She closed her eyes trying to settle her desire to rebuke him. While displeased by what was attached to this mission, she resolved to its sense of urgency, "I told you, I do not seek forgiveness, but," after mounting her horse, she said sincerely, "I will complete this task, for the debt I owe you is great." She admittedly had grown fond of the old wizard and despite the trouble she gave him, she respected and appreciated his and Morinehtar's guidance.

"Speed to you, young Elf," Romestamo warmly farewelled, using her pet name, which he knew irritated her, "May you find some sense of peace while there."

Instead of chastising him for the title, as she often did, she respectively pressed her fist to her chest and bowed, leaving the wizard and Rhun behind, uncertain of what lay ahead.

The dream then shifted weeks forward to barren wastelands which were once the more fertile fields of the Balchoth; the climate of the area had turned arid and inhospitable. Vez's mouth felt noticeably parched for she was low on water and far from natural sources. She had taken this route through Rhun for safety reason, for it was unlikely to be used as a militia traveling ground, and from there she would cross the borders of Rhovanion into the West and into the kingdom of Rohan. Cut into a cliff face was a sanctuary dedicated to remembrance of the clan's leaders; it was filled with nondescript rectangular, polished black stone totems erected side-by-side. A portion of the leader's ashes were buried in front of them in soap stone boxes, while the rest would have been scattered to the winds. She had not returned there for three hundred years, since the time she returned the Balchoth leader ring. It was when her allegiance had fully shifted to Sauron and she felt odd to hold onto it; for her people had vanished into history and memories of her failure in the West unsettled her. The sanctuary was in squalid condition, with part of the entrance collapsed and several of the totems knocked over and broken; for earthquakes had taken their toll on the area. Her father's totem, stationed next to her mother's, whose ashes were mixed with his, remained in situ. She knelt in front of it, her knees adjusting to the rough gravel on the broken tile floor. She poured some of her remaining water over the stone to cleanse it, revealing the polished black stone underneath. It was custom for one to do so when they came to pay their respects, thus despite her scarcity of water, she felt it necessary. She took a moment to gather her thoughts.

"I do not believe the dead can hear the living or any of that superstitious nonsense," she scoffed aloud, trying not to feel foolish for a desire to make her thoughts vocal, "But here I am feeling a need to speak to both of you. I go West, a direction I have not gone since I led our people to their fate. And there, I am to fight alongside our enemy. Ironic, I know, but I believe it is against the right foe. Sauron deceived both of us. Know I do not begrudge you your part in this deception... I hold no connection to those whose arms I was taken from before being placed into yours, despite my rescuers desires to embrace my blood. They do not realize it is not my blood that kept me from despair those years in captivity..."

She opened the soap stone box to view the ashes of her mother and father. Moving her fingers through the grey sand she found the gold ring she placed there centuries past. After brushing the dust from it gently, she pushed it onto her index finger.

Gaining strength from remembrance, "It was your upbringing that made me strong. As Vezena, I would not accept defeat, not to one who has wronged us..." She would leave with the ring as a reminder of the only home she had truly known; a reminder that she once had purpose and the honor to fulfill it. A few weeks later she would find herself on the edge of Fangorn Forest, and the beginning of her journey with her current traveling companions.

Vez awoke, her eyes opening to the darkness of the communal quarters, and her ears to the light sound of Gimli snoring alongside the winds of Edoras shuffling the grasslands outside. She did not desire to return to sleep, and instead grabbed her sword from its position resting against the corner wall before quietly exiting the side door; attempting her best to walk lightly as to not disturb anyone.

Her eyes looked towards the heavens and she would find the stars brighter than usual; enticing her to the terrace corner where she took a seat on the ground. Sitting cross legged, she held up her sword in the palms of her hands. Unsheathing it halfway in front of her face, her eyes surveyed the chiseled engravings across its length. "Fear not the destruction of your soul, instead fear defeat in life." This was not the sword given to her in her youth by her Balchoth parents, for that sword was lost to history. It was one passed on to her by the Blue Wizards, when they deemed her mentally stable and amicable enough to carry one. It was one of many weapons the resistance confiscated when they ambushed an army supply caravan, thus it was not of the highest quality and sparse in decor. She had added the engraving herself, trying to reconnect with her past, when life had a greater purpose and to remember the people who were instrumental in her upbringing. After thinking through its words, she brought the sword's blade to her forehead, lightly touching its coolness to her skin. It caused her to sigh, "Who am I?" Not even realizing she spoke this in Westron, for she had been speaking this tongue consistently lately. Bringing it away from her head, she gazed uncertain at the reflection of her eyes in its moonlit steel, before it reflected movement behind her. She tilted it and saw his form. Sheathing it in a quick motion, she gathered her composure and spoke with her eyes remaining forward, "Apologies if I woke you. I need to learn to be quieter."

"You were, for no others were stirred and I was already awake," he replied softly.

"You could not sleep?" she inquired, looking up at him when he reached her side.

"Unfortunately not, for my mind wishes otherwise," he explained, for he had fallen to sleep briefly only to be visited by visions of Mirkwood burning and his people dying in battle. He wondered if this war was taking its toll on him; that the constant peril and death were causing him to lose resolve. He knew he should not have followed her outside, for undoubtedly she desired solitude, but yet his heart desired to be near her. As if he could find some solace by being in her presence.

"Mine as well," she replied commiserating.

"May I sit beside you?" he then asked politely, despite it being an uncomfortable position for one who preferred to stand - honed by years spent on patrol with the Woodland guard.

"Please," she scooted slightly over from the corner, smirking slightly, for his courteousness continued to amuse her. While before she wanted to avoid an awkward conversation with him, she also could not deny that she felt calmed by his presence and was glad he was there.

They each looked at the stars above, quietly breathing in the cool air, each uncertain how to frame their conversation due to the prior episode that afternoon - her hand in his, their confusion in desires - it remained fresh in their minds.

"I should not have shared with you that map," Vezely broke the silence cautiously, believing she gained a sense of his prior distress, "For the information now weighs heavily on your mind."

Legolas somehow was not surprised she knew what caused him unrest, for Elves were often perceptive of emotions, "Do not feel guilt for doing so, for I desired to know what awaits my kin. And regardless, other thoughts would have equally kept me from rest."

She smiled briefly at his polite forgiveness, furthering considering, "This war is wearing on you. I have heard Elves can only take so much death and despair before they wear thin."

He looked at her curiously, wondering where she was provided this information, "To some extent this is true. The Shadow that now spreads has caused many of our kin to feel the weight of uncertainty and to desire the bliss of Valinor. Though I am not unaccustomed to war and its effects. What have you heard about the emotional character of Elves?" he asked wondering.

"That there is weakness in Elvish blood," she stated solidly, as if it was a truism she always held.

"Weakness?" he repeated, surprised at her word choice.

"Perhaps that is a biased word," realizing she spoke condescendingly, "One honed by centuries of desired disassociation. I was told I should not have survived the dungeons of Dol Guldur, or to have survived, but with less resolve."

"It is admittedly surprising," he considered, "But such does not spell weakness in the blood of Elves, but speaks more to the strength of your own character," turning her idea on itself, "And what else have you heard?"

Vez considered her phrasing, "That there is a great dichotomy of the strength of our flesh and the softness of our emotions. That an Elf cannot die from age or disease, but in battle or of a broken heart, Elves can perish. The latter of which I can only assume is incorrect, for such a possibility is inconceivable;" an uncomfortable chuckle followed.

"You underestimate the power of love," he replied earnestly, internalizing the truism of her words and querying her disbelief.

She looked at him skeptical, "This cannot be true." Her eyes displayed shock and disbelief, with a hint of disdain before betraying worry, which he wondered of.

"Love is not something taken lightly by those who walk this land for centuries," he explained, "Companionship is typically found early in life. Elves marry young, and the joy of that bond sustains them for eternity. For even when couples are asunder, they are linked by heart and mind. The loss of one destroys the other."

She thought through this explanation but "I see," was all she could manage in a reply, for she could not conceive of such a strong connection. The implications of it bothered her. Then, as if needing confirmation, she asked, "Are you not married? For I would suspect someone such as yourself would easily be spoken for."

He was slightly embarrassed that she even thought this, especially since his slight advances on her would be deemed adulterous if he were. A small uncomfortable smile marked his face.

"Apologies," she added concerned before he could reply, biting her lip, for she realized she caused him uneasiness, "It was too personal a question to ask."

He smiled slightly while looking down, "No, it is a question well-expected for I am not the norm. My parents did encourage me to seek companionship early in life, but you cannot force love when the right one is not to be found."

An awkward silence followed his words, and Vezely felt regretful to have caused it. Hoping to mend this, Legolas added, "You may ask me personal questions, if there is something you truly desire to know, I would gladly answer it."

She was unsure of his reasoning, but desired to provide him the same offer, "I will provide you the same courtesy. Though," she smirked, "I think you are too polite to ask what you truly desire to know."

He smiled slightly, knowing this was true, "Perhaps, or perhaps not. For I gather you have a negative take on love."

"This is not a question, but an assumption," she remarked, curious of what he was getting at.

"Then," he decided to rephrase, "How do you view love?"

She smiled pleasantly amused at his attempt to be bold, "I will be honest. I have always viewed love as a weakness; as a dishonest sport between the sexes, one that can be used and abused at whim. And for those who stand outside a couple's love, it can be wielded as a weapon against them."

"And you have done so?" he asked concerned.

She breathed in the cool air before replying, "Yes I have."

"You do not need to tell me more," he added politely before she could continue.

"Though you should know of my corruption, for if Elves truly hold love sacred, I am even more of an abomination in this regard," her voice solid and her gaze showing her sincere concern; she could tell he was considering why she would tell him this.

"That is your past," he replied gaining resolve in her worried gaze, for his feelings for her were not easily swayed, "My question is of your present disposition."

She averted her eyes, not desiring him to read into her thoughts, "Love remains a foreign land I know little about. And a place I am unsure if I could visit."

"And if invitation is given," he asked carefully.

She sensed a solid assertion behind his words; as if he was gauging whether she would accept his love. She continued to speak with metaphoric double meaning, "Much consideration should be given by the inviter, for the consequences of such a trip are uncertain."

Not knowing the true meaning strung to her words, he asserted, "Again, I believe you fear what you have not yet experienced."

"I do not fear for myself," she blurted forthrightly, "But for the one who would love me. I would not have another's fate tied to my own."

Suddenly he realized he was wrong, her worry was for him - the question about dying from a broken heart queried before, they all led to her concern of him loving her. "Vezely," her name rolled off his tongue softly with his breath, "Your fate is not decided. You should not live as if you are doomed."

She shut her eyes, saying just as soft, "And you should have the love of someone who is pure and has no possibility of causing you pain." As soon as the last words left her mouth, she had a desire to leave his side for such emotions overwhelmed her. She stood and turned away from him, her hand clutching her sword scabbard's beside her. But before steps could be taken, Legolas also rose and took her hand at her side, causing her to turn to him. He lifted it to his chest, and pressed her palm against him as he did that afternoon. She could feel his heart beating beneath it.

"You cannot dictate love," he stated to her quietly, causing her strained eyes to finally look at him. "If you do not feel as I do, then tell me and I will try to diminish my feelings for you." He knew he could not force her heart.

Seconds passed before she could answer, her hand pulsing in his, her breathing irregular. She thought she could lie to him, and send him through some painful days, but spare him in the end; but would he not suspect her words were false? Could she even admit that she loved him, crossing into this foreign territory that she never thought bid her welcome? The moments passed and worry began to consume Legolas, for he could not gauge the conversation she was having inside.

Her eyes closed in defeat, realizing she was not strong enough to hide the truth, "I cannot lie to you, Legolas. For the feelings I hold would not diminish if I did." After these words left her mouth, she opened her eyes to his, finding they were beginning to fill with joy, igniting a similar feeling inside her, but one she tried to reason out of. "But it does not mean we should pursue such feelings, war is not suited for it," she asserted firmly, holding her sword up to her chest as if to create a barrier between them.

"You're wrong, it is a time like this when love is needed," he knew she carried her doubts and fear of the future, but he would not let her repress this, "Love is not a weakness, Vezely. It is a strength. It will see us through this, together."

After absorbing his words, she slowly brought her sword back down to her side, her head and eyelids lowering with it, uncertain of their truth and knowing now that reasoning out of what grew between them was impossible. "I am not strong enough to love," she murmured, appearing unconvinced. But instead of letting her despair in the moment, he gently brought her body close to his, cradling her with her hand still on his chest, his head now beside hers in an comforting embrace. She continued to hold her sword at her side but it slowly slid from her grasp, hitting the stone floor tip first before falling and clanking onto its side. She brought her now free hand to his upper back and brought his body closer to hers, burying the side of her face into his shoulder. They both closed their eyes and allowed the moment to take them away from the present world.


	16. New Beginnings, or Not

Seconds passed into minutes as the two unlikely souls remained in an embrace that solidified their feelings. Their breathing and heart beats fell into unison, and their body temperatures became the same. Vezely slowly moved her face away from his shoulder, her eyes still closed, as Legolas looked down upon her - she was tall, as he was, but he stood a few inches above her. Her eyes would slowly open and meet his gaze, and they exchanged the now accepted affection held between them; remembering that before such gazes sparked confusion of interests. That this may have grown from a seed embedded in them upon their first meeting in Mirkwood centuries ago was in the back of both of their minds. He brought his hand softly to her cheek, and smiled as he caressed it; finding himself still considering what it meant to reconcile these feelings when the gulf of cultural differences, her dark history, and the uncertainty of the future remained.

Vez had a small, curious smile on her face, for such a gentle touch she knew not. She had let her inhibitions go, allowing him to hold her as if she required it for she despaired in the moment of accepting her love for him - she despaired thinking of a future not set in stone, and one which she never concerned herself with moving forward into before. She moved her hand on top of his, and held it softly to keep it steady aside her face, "How did we end up here?" she spoke with bemused concern, considering as he had the past centuries that they stood as enemies.

"An answer I do not need to know," Legolas replied quietly, enjoying the touch of her hand on his and the closeness of her face.

Vez felt slightly overwhelmed by the rush of emotions hitting her, as if she were beside herself, looking upon the situation as one would observe a dream. She could not help but feel undeserving of such a gaze, to be held as such by one as perfect as he, and to be looked upon as if she were just as perfect. He noted the concern in her eyes, the emotions welling inside her, and he instinctively kissed her forehead, causing her to close her eyes and have the feelings of unworthiness soothed. "Do not question it either," he whispered, but did so in Elvish, and she felt the breath from his voice lightly touch her face. The sound of the lyrical words further calmed her and she nodded slightly in resolve to this request, opening her eyes to his and finding their faces closer than before.

"I will not," she replied in his native tongue, and suddenly turned her gaze to the night sky, sensing the stars were appearing brighter than before. He adjusted his arms around her and also gazed at the stars, as they leaned against each other. They knew there was nothing more that needed to be said that evening, nothing that needed to be decided. The sun would rise and they would face a new day and a new way of living, or perhaps not.

As the town awoke below them, they knew they couldn't idle there or neglect their companions. Another time and place and they would have taken off on their own, away from any pressing matters to enjoy their new found courtship. Despite an evening of solace, the war for Middle Earth would not cease for two young hearts or lessen the resolve of either whose tasks were yet to be done.

As the sun rose and they felt its additional warmth hit them, they looked at each other and silently voiced how unexpected it was the position they found themselves in. "So much for a night of rest," Vez said slyly.

"There will be other nights," Legolas confirmed, for he surely had intended to rest if not for his troubled thoughts about his homeland. "Though I suspect you do not rest often," he added, considering her deep slumber the night she fell asleep beside him on their return to Edoras from Isengard. Rarely do Elves fall into such a deep slumber that they are not stirred by even the most muffled of noises.

"I do not," Vez replied considering as they now faced each other, holding each other's hands by their sides, "My mind often does not allow it," she added nonchalantly, though she thought how sleep too often reminded her of the time she spent in Dol Guldur's dungeons when she lost hold of her mind and fell into the void of non-remembrance. She squeezed his hands before releasing them, noting the warmth her body held and the coolness of the morning winds suddenly playing against its once sealed surface.

She went to pick up the sword she dropped the night before, kneeling on one knee and grabbing it by the scabbard's midpoint, suddenly being struck by the engravings hidden inside. " _Fear not the destruction of your soul, instead fear defeat in life_." It stalled her from standing. For she knew if she perished in this fight, there was a high possibility of not being permitted to pass into Valinor for her sins were too great. She never cared whether her past deeds destroyed her soul, for the Blue Wizards' warnings she'd be left wandering the Halls of Mandos seemed unduly like her present reality. As long as she met death as a warrior to a worthy opponent, she cared not what lied beyond. Besides, hadn't she deserved such a fate? But by accepting love, an Elf accepts the responsibility of another's fëa. If her heart was now reconciled to be his, an eternity without him, and the sorrow such a separation could inflict weighed heavily on her mind. Did love now provide her strength to desire a different fate? To change her mind about seeking the redemption she cared not?

Looking upon her back, Legolas noted her contemplation, saying steadily, "You are you."

She pivoted towards him as she stood up, grasping her sword in her hand, "What?" she asked unsure what he was referring to.

"I heard you last night, questioning who you were while looking upon the markings on your sword," he explained, thinking back and connecting her current thoughts to it, "You are you. I stand by what I said at Helm's Deep. You do not need to reconcile your character with what you perceive to be the character of Elves. You were not raised among us, but you are one of us."

She realized she spoke in Westron and his keen hearing must have picked it up. She now reconsidered his words, finding herself even more grateful for them than she was before, "And your acceptance of my character means everything to me." But she hoped not to dwell on the engraving's meaning and her true worries, so she added amused, "We are very different, you and I, but perhaps this is why we're compatible." Then raising one eyebrow, "And my differences appeal to you."

He smirked at her stance, and not necessarily denying it he confirmed, "You are unique, uncouth at times."

"Uncouth?" she scoffed surprised and slightly offended, moving back to his side, "I suppose to someone as polite and well-bred as yourself."

"I am not always polite," he rejoined assuredly, though he knew he had often been around her.

"I hope not," she smirked, her sly tone obviously flirting with him, making him unintentionally blush. After a moment she added while looking out on the plains, her free hand on her hip in defiance, "Uncouth...Unconventional perhaps. I have held council with pale orcs and barbarous men who'd rather club me than converse with me. I was the least uncouth among them." She looked at him through the corner of her eye, turning from sarcasm to blatant curiosity as she awaited his response.

He was amused by her playful nature, for she knew she could now give him a hard time without much reticence. Keeping his stance and smirking slightly, he replied confidently, "I will not be polite enough to rescind my judgment. You remain uncouth in my eyes."

She laughed, feeling glee at being met with equal retort, to play with him freely in such a manner. She slid her hand under his forearm, as if he were to escort her off somewhere, unintentionally feeling his hard arm muscles underneath as she did. He smiled over at her, liking the feeling such a touch and their current position standing beside each other evoked, for they stood there as a couple. For one who always admired his friend's pairings, to now be paired felt unbelievable. Vez was not the Elf maiden he'd always imagined would be at his side - not only was she foreign in appearance but in nature; yet, he liked their asymmetry. Similarly, Vez never envisioned herself holding the arm of a handsome and honorable Elf; for the men she had stood next to in her life, for she had a number of men as her second in command, were dishonorable and far from beautiful. She adjusted her hand slightly, noting his arm muscles again, which caused a slight rush of heat to go to her cheeks.

They each gazed out on the horizon, thinking of the other, while both being grateful they had settled this issue. Inevitably the day ahead crept into their minds and Vez spoke her thoughts, "Gandalf should be at Minas Tirith by now."

"Yes, he should," Legolas confirmed, thinking the same thing, "Today our eyes will be fixed on the beckons, especially Aragorn's."

"He carries a heavy burden, as the last of his line," she added considering.

"And it is slowly eating away at him," Legolas spoke solemnly, caring much for his friend, "He does not desire nor feel worthy of the power that lies before him."

Vezely did not know fully Aragorn's take on the task set before him, but to hear that such a man truly did not want such authority, did not surprise her. "This whole war has been about power, that he does not desire such position..."

"It brings hope to the world of men," Legolas finished her sentence.

She silently agreed via a brief nod, for it was her thoughts made vocal. Thinking of hope, however, made her breath get caught slightly as she wondered if her own worries were unfounded. After allowing these ideas to settle, she asked uncertain of life now that such a bond had been acknowledged between them, "How do we move on from here?"

Knowing she referred to their changed relationship, he turned toward her, and taking her hands in his, he spoke steadily, "We each have our duties. Mine remains tied to the fellowship. For I swore an oath in Rivendell, and remain bound by honor and friendship to fulfill its purpose. You also have yours. And while I do not know where these tasks will lead us, I do know that my heart is yours and will remain so whatever path we take."

"But you place it in precarious hands," she replied concerned, making her worries only partially known, "My tasks may take me away from these lands, and whether I can return..."

He quieted her by softly pressing his fingers against her lips. He knew some truth lay behind her disbelief; that even after the impending battles and if Sauron was defeated, she may not be able to simply move forward when her past tied her down. But he realized that here their difference in age showed, for time and distance often did not enter into an Elf's concern.

"I worry needlessly," Vez remarked after he moved his fingers away, forming words to his thoughts; adding softly, "The world waited for us to meet again."

He continued where she left off, "And it can wait again for us to be together. Time or distance will not change my feelings for you."

As she absorbed his oath, Vezely knew not the words to give voice to shared sentimentality, for she also knew her heart was his and there was no turning such feelings around, regardless of where she found herself. She noted his light touch against her cheek had made her breathing grow heavy and an unseen force beckoned her lips to his. Though taken back by her sudden boldness, Legolas obliged her impulse, taking her in a full embrace as their desires softly played out. Breathless they parted, their noses yet lingering and foreheads touching, finding the sensation a revelation of how they could have lived without such experience.

Knowing she may have surprised him by taking this next physical step, one not taken lightly by young hearts in love, Vez grinned saying, "I am uncouth," causing a mirthful response. In a way, it sealed their bond, for their circumstances made an extended courtship impossible. They would later part from each other's side, but with confidence that their newly found love would help guide them through the hard days ahead.

* * *

...After tending Gizik in the stables Vez slowly made her way back to the Golden Hall, hearing the sounds of children playing nearby. They were kicking around a twine ball, playing keep away from the youngest and smallest of the bunch - a small girl not five years of age who appeared to be exhausted from the task given to her by her slightly older peers. Vez ignored the group's rowdiness, hoping to bypass them on her path, for the sound of children irritated her. Yet the young one, in an attempt to catch the thrown ball, slipped and fell right in front of Vez's trajectory, causing tears to instantaneously fall down her cheeks, courtesy of a scrapped knee and hurt pride. While initially considering stepping around the tiny victim and being on her way, Vez stopped and squatted in front of her, offering a hand to assist her up. Albeit a friendly gesture, recognition by the child that it came from an unlikely source, caused her to sniff in a gulp of breath, followed by silence and widened eyes. Noting this unfavorable reaction, Vez switched to a friendlier demeanor, smiling slightly while softly saying, "A scrapped knee is not enough to accept defeat." The child noted her pleasant voice and decided to accept her hand, and Vez gently lifted her to her feet. The child starred at her in wonder momentarily, but a brief smile and nod were given before running off to join her friends. For Vez, looking into her teary eyes produced a knot in her stomach, for it caused remembrance of the children whose deaths she was responsible and for the ones whose imminent deaths she averted in the village in the Nurunkhizdin Mountains; when teary eyes also looked upon her. She felt slightly sick as she heard the sounds of their play commence as a vision of Edoras burning and the same children lying dead in the street consumed her. She knew they may not survive the spread of Sauron's power; they too would be his victims, easily discarded by the armies who desired their lands.

In the past, Vez primarily operated as a general should, providing rational reasons for any deaths she ordered or took. She often turned surrenders into examples, dealt with resistance psychologically through fear, using death for its shock value; all means which she saw as having justifiable ends. But she knew she did not always maintain that stance, for there was no strategic value in having killed for sport, or professing to enjoy a good kill when it presented itself. Sauron once prided himself on her cruelty, and even more so, on her ability to use it to produce results.

Her sins were undeniable and now more than ever they were staring her in the face. She wondered whether this was what Romestamo truly meant when he said going West would be "an opportunity to confront your past, to restart your future." She queried whether such feelings of remorse suddenly hitting her were part of her moving forward. As her steps took her closer to the great hall's open doors, she tried to brush off any hint of this concern before entering, for it did not suit the character she always upheld - distanced and not distracted by the plight of others. This had become even more of a lie since coming West.

Inside she found King Theodon conversing with his advisers, sensing as the rest of them that they may be called to ride for war soon. Vezely nodded in greeting to Eowyn, who stood by her brother, whose eyes simply acknowledged Vez's presence, and Vez returned a similar glance to show she could also casually ignore him. She moved over to where Gimli and Merry were seated, quietly enjoying a simple meal of stew, while Legolas stood aside them in his usual manner - arms crossed with perfect posture as if he were one of the hall's pillars. Her gaze found his eyes quickly and they exchanged the warmth of the feelings acknowledged between them that morning, and Vez felt slight heat in her cheeks as she did for such moments of tenderness were also recalled. She reached his side, and stood close to him, and knowing similar thoughts were passing through his mind made her grin, though to others her smile appeared to have no reason behind it.

"What are you cheery about lass?" Gimli asked suspiciously, one eyebrow raised.

She realized her mirthful demeanor and calmed her amusement, returning to one more collected, "We may ride to war today," she replied assuredly.

"Hmm, that would make you happy," and he then added in agreeable tone, "As it does me."

Vez liked the dwarf's equal love of battle and his good humor towards it. She wondered if all his kin were similar for perhaps she would not have any issue getting along with dwarves.

Before the conversation commenced, however, through the hall's doors ran Aragorn as if lit on fire, "The beacons of Minas Tirith! The Beacons are lit! Gondor calls for aid."

Silence filled the hall as all eyes were fixed on the man, before turning to King Theodon, as he considered his response. Perhaps having already resolved to it earlier, he declared proudly, "And Rohan will answer."

It was enough to set his men into action, as Theodon sent riders to all corners of his kingdom to call upon able-bodied men to assemble at Dunharrow. For Vez and her companions, they would need to pack up their belongings and ready their horses for the long journey ahead.

...In the stables, Eowyn and Vez exchanged words, "I am glad you can ride with us to the encampment," Vez confided, walking Gizik aside her, then remarking covertly, "It provides opportunity."

Eowyn nodded agreeably, replying quietly, "Though one that must be carefully considered."

Vez understood the need to do so, replying encouragingly, "There is yet time. I will support you in any decision you make." Walking into the sunlight, they politely smiled knowing the conversation should not take on more ears, especially since Aragorn was right ahead of them. Vez continued her walk while Eowyn stopped by his side.

Before mounting her horse, Vez felt a light tug on her jacket; turning around she saw the same small child from that morning starring up at her and holding in her tiny hand a white flower. Vez looked skeptically at the youth's gesture at first, unsure how to accept such a gift with gratitude. Taking the flower from her, she smiled slightly, causing the child to smile back before running off again. Vez wondered if this odd child was mute before looking upon the gift she now held in her own hand. Not knowing what to do with something so delicate, but not wanting to discard it too quickly, she held onto it as she mounted her horse, and ended up placing it in her pocket where it would sit forgotten on her ride.

She did not suspect she'd return to Edoras as she left it, nor the West Fold as they drove towards Dunharrow. These fields were her past, spelling the defeat of her people and her banishment from the West. She had confronted them, asked for a chance at redemption, to fight alongside a people she once wronged and the king accepted her, pardoning her past deeds for the present task mattered more. Along the way, they would stop only momentarily for food and brief rest, for Theodon desired to be among his troops at Dunharrow as soon as possible to oversee his assembly and build morale before they would move on to Gondor. Vez was requested to scout behind the group; a necessary precaution even if no imminent danger loomed on that horizon. It left her far from the others for most of the trip and time alone to ponder over how much had changed for her since their trek to Helm's Deep where she also scouted from behind. Since then she had accepted what she could not - her Elvish blood. The history and culture shared to her, knowledge of her bloodline, and visions of her birthplace, all stirred this recognition. Yet she knew not how to push forward from bleak acceptance. Legolas helped build a bridge past these doubts, into a world where it was possible to live as an Elf and one where it was possible to love. This world still seemed far away, however, for so much lay in its path.

The troops filtered into Dunharrow, with Vez joining them shortly after. She counted the ranks among them as she road through the encampment, adjusting the numbers in her head to the ones she previously envisioned at Edoras. There were fewer riders than she expected, not enough to take on the armies she knew were amassed to await them. While they had till dawn for more to arrive, the current outlook looked bleak for any successful assault.

The sun was beginning to go down by the time she made it up the mountain, via a jagged path cut into the cliff side. Her companions had already settled in, tethered their horses, and found a hot meal to fill their stomachs after a long day of riding. After dismounting, she found herself wrestling with Gizik's reigns, finding the horse had suddenly grown distrustful of her surroundings. She looked towards an open valley in the cliff face and felt that it exuded a cold presence but ignored it, as she cared more about her horse's nerves. Still finding resistance, she spoke to Gizik in Elvish, which she had never done before. Suddenly the horse's demeanor shifted and allowed the words to soothe her worries. After tethering her with the others, and swinging her rucksack over her shoulder, she searched for familiar faces, finding Gimli eating seconds or thirds of hot stew, and Legolas perched nearby with his long bow at his side.

Legolas greeted her with a smile, grateful to see her, followed by saying slyly, "I'm afraid there may be nothing left, the dwarf has not stopped eating since sitting down."

"If this is to be my last meal, then it's not going to be a short one," Gimli rebuked gruffly, brushing stew off his beard with his gloved hand, and then adding in greeting, "Good to see ya lass."

Vez chuckled at their all too common banter, saying, "It's good to be seen," for she had been out of their eyes distance for some time. She looked upon Legolas again, who stood at her side, his presence calmed her, and she gave him a silent greeting. She then said to each of them steadily, though with a hint of disappointment, "There are fewer here than I expected."

"More may arrive by dawn," Gimli told her optimistically.

A half smile betrayed her looming pessimism. Having to tend to something, she asked them, "Is there a tent that is ours to use?"

"Aye," Gimli replied, looking toward the one behind them, "Eowyn and Merry are in there now, sure you'd be able to use the space if asked."

She nodded, hoisting her rucksack back on her shoulder, "I'll return shortly," she told them politely, not explaining the task she desired to complete.

Before leaving their presence, Merry had departed the tent's flapped entrance, dressed in full Rohan battle armor with a sword in hand, followed closely by Eowyn, cheerfully pushing him off to the smithy. No sooner after Merry had left, practicing the swing of his sword wildly, had her brother intervened in her encouragement, shifting Eowyn's attention and darkening her demeanor.

"You should not encourage him," Eomer spoke assuredly while sitting next to Gamling.

Eowyn held her position, responding, "You should not doubt him."

Then in an attempt to raise a laugh, he replied sardonically, "I do not doubt his heart, just the reach of his arm," which indeed caused Gamling to chuckle covertly.

"Why should Merry be left behind? He has as much cause go to war as you! Why can he not fight for those he loves?" Eowyn said concerned, finding herself now face to face with her brother.

"You know as little of war as that Hobbit," he stated while looking her straight in the eye, "When the fear takes him, and the blood and the screams and the horror of battle take hold, do you think he would stand and fight? He would flee, and he would be right to do so. War is the province of men, Eowyn."

Legolas, who was behind Vezely, knew she was listening to the entire conversation intently and that what she heard riled her. He cupped his hand on her shoulder, saying quietly, "Not all battles need to be fought."

Yet Vez was not feeling like holding her tongue. She narrowed her eyes slightly, moving forward into the brother and sister's space of confrontation. "And you know little about this war," she scolded, "Do not think it will be fought solely on a battlefield. It will filter like a raging tide into your cities and towns. War will be the province of everyone if Sauron has his way. You should not prevent those who have a desire to stop it."

Eomer's eyes narrowed on her, taking her diatribe as a threat to his position, though also knowing her words of the encroaching war rang true. He looked again at his sister, not understanding that inside her she held equal desire as he to protect their loved ones, whether on a battlefield or back at Edoras; not knowing that she would also fight to the death and not flee out of fear. "Regardless, on a battlefield or in a town," he continued undeterred, while attempting to not let anger overtake him, "He would still flee out of fear."

Vez shook her head thinking how typical it was for men to think so lowly of others courage, saying steadily, "I have also seen men flee out of fear, leaving their families behind, while women defend their loved ones with weapons fashioned out of household items. You want to see courage, watch a woman try to protect her child from being slaughtered. I have lost men who foolishly thought women did not bare teeth," she breathed in, casting her gaze away from him and slightly adjusting her rucksack back on her shoulder, for these were not pleasant thoughts to share. Thinking out loud before finding the tent's entrance, she added sorrowfully, "If we all had such motivation, perhaps there is hope."

After entering, she knew she should not have acted in such a confrontational manner, but her emotions had not been steady during the journey, and coming upon Dunharrow to a lower than expected troop number did not subsume her growing pessimism. She closed her eyes momentarily, attempting to clear her thoughts before opening them again to the tent's sparse comforts. The small table and chairs provided all the space she needed for her task.


	17. Instruments of Death

Legolas refrained from interfering in the prior heated exchange between Vezely and Eomer, staying put and closing his eyes in mild concern, as he hoped it would not heighten for he knew the two had not achieved a comfortable level of amicability since they met. He also knew Vez was not in good spirits upon her arrival, not only by her voiced concern over the scarcity of amassed riders at Dunharrow, but he could sense it. He admitted to himself after Vez disappeared into the tent that he was surprised the argument hadn't grown into something more contentious. While Eomer was certainly not pleased after the exchange, expressing quietly after to Gamling his dislike of her, Legolas knew Vez refrained from inflicting more personal insults. Instead, her words not only defended Merry, but displayed a genuine concern for those who would be affected by this war - showing she cared not only because it gave her a chance for revenge, which she admitted to him before was her sole purpose in this fight.

She had changed so much in his eyes since they fell upon her at the edge of Fangorn, where he would have obliged his impulse to release his arrow to task if Gandalf had not assured him her intentions were amiable. Legolas was not an infallible Elf. He could be rash if riled, and arrogant to those he deemed children when compared to his age. Traits he knew he garnered partially from his father. He was, however, less in experience on foot. He knew some of his current companions, Vez included, had traveled this Middle Earth much farther than he had and seen lands he had only heard stories of. His experience lay in his homeland, for he knew Mirkwood better than most of his kinsmen, and perhaps even better than his own father. There is where his heart truly lied and where he hoped to someday return. When he left it for Imladris so many months ago, he did not fully comprehend the extent of the task that lay before him, though a shadow and a threat of approaching turmoil had been growing steadily in his and his people's minds during the prior century. Upon acknowledgment that the One Ring was found, his father requested his attendance at Lord Elrond's council, confident in his ability to represent the Woodland Realm in such dark times; and when Legolas offered his bow to the cause, he knew his father would have expected nothing less of his only son. He never truly saw his title as the Prince of Mirkwood a forced burden, for his father never pressured him into court life, or mired him in the trials of daily rule. Desiring instead to protect the forest and his kin, Legolas joined the Woodland Guard and patrolled alongside others without overt status. At the same time, however, he was not without obligations to his people or presence standing before them. He was Thranduil's son and known as such throughout all Elvish kingdoms. And by joining the Fellowship, he represented not only his kingdom's people, but allEelvendom, as Gimli represented all Dwarves. Perhaps this was the defining moment in his life that would forever change the trajectory of his future among his people. Furthermore, these past months had changed him, taking him far afoot from his comfort zone while forming friendships with the most unlikely individuals, namely theDdwarf. Their common cause aside, his old self may not have been so willing to move past ancient grudges. Perhaps now he accepted the responsibility of his position as prince, understanding the importance to move beyond petty differences and set an example for what is best for all Middle Earth.

Thus, he could not also help but consider what this new relationship meant for him. It would seem unlikely for Thranduil's son, of all Elves, to have fallen for one of such ill reputation; for her nickname of  _Nwalmaer_  (the tormented one) and the story of her corruption by Sauron were well-known, while her actual name and current path towards redemption. Before the skirmish that left her at the mercy of his people in Mirkwood five centuries ago, any news that an Elf led a foreign force of men upon lands West of Rhun would have been considered farce. And that an Elf was indeed involved in such affairs only furthered growing concerns of the power rising in the East. His father's desire to treat her wounds and release her back into what was now known to be Sauron's grasp, also caused questioning among many of his kinsfolk. It suggested Thranduil was aware of her existence beforehand and perhaps other elders had similar knowledge.

His father would hold a brief meeting with Elrond in the weeks following her departure. Legolas had greeted Lord Elrond upon this visit, and while escorting him to his father's court, he inquired whether his trip had anything to do with their previous visitor. Elrond politely declined to offer further details saying, "There are many topics we must discuss, your previous visitor one among them. But trouble yourself not with her now, Legolas, time must carry the burden of our removal from her trajectory." It was another cryptic response, as the ones his father had provided him when he said there was reasoning behind their paths crossing. When rumors of her bloodline, as child of Dior and Nimloth's lost sonEluréd arose, Legolas tried not to overly concern himself with them, though he remained attentive for she was not easily forgotten. He never agreed with his father for releasing her, for she had killed his kin and almost killed another after waking. And now he admitted to questioning whether her darker history could have been averted if she wasn't released - but despite these thoughts being part of his wish to vanish her pain, he knew, as Lord Elrond had mentioned, there was reasoning behind those centuries where she did Sauron's bidding.

The cryptic messages suggested his father and even Lord Elrond foresaw that their paths were intertwined. Perhaps then, his father would not be surprised if she were by his side the day he returned to his homeland. Of course, such optimistic thoughts warmed him and gave him hope of a desired future, but the encroaching battle inevitably led him to querying their possibility. He now desired nothing more than to bring her back to the healing hand of the forest, to move her past the title Nwalmaer, and the attributes it spoke of; to give her a new start on life, as he would start his anew by accepting the responsibility of his title. Yet all this was beyond his control. He acknowledged her lingering reservations toward their relationship as a need to reconcile her past with her present and future. He simply wanted to provide a comfortable bridge to a life beyond what currently mired her, so she could see herself through this war; though he admitted he knew not whether his own life was similarly forfeit. Legolas never doubted his skill as a warrior and for an Elf to die in battle was an honorable end to life on these shores. It proved difficult to think of one or both of them not surviving, but could they not meet again in the Undying Lands?

* * *

Forgoing additional thought on the previous confrontation with Eomer, Vez swung her rucksack on one of the chairs, propped her sword aside the table, and removed the small pouch of blasting power from her inner jacket pocket. She spilled its contents onto the tabletop, resulting in a small pile of black chips of uneven shape. She had not opened it since Helm's Deep, when she used it to display its power to King Theodon. She was suddenly reminded of the Deeping Wall being brought down; of course, her amount was nowhere near what was used there. Opening her rucksack, she shifted through the sparse items within it which comprised all she owned - her tattered memory book, an misshapen brush and now empty inkwell, the leaf that once held the lembas bread Aragorn gave her, an empty tin of tea - to find five spherical metal objects on the bottom. She inspected each one separately as she took them out; one could be grasped in the palm of her hand. Once deciding their mechanics would still function, she lined them up on the table in front of her. Before taking a seat, she removed her jacket. Underneath she wore a fitted brown leather corset. It had a deep v-neckline and braided shoulder straps that crisscrossed in the back, leaving bare her arms, her mid-back and shoulder blades, as well as her neckline. Her skin felt the cool air from outside shuffling in through the tent's doorway. Once seated, she used her teeth to break the thread line on the bottom hem of her jacket. Unraveling it allowed for a stream of black chips to fall from its folds onto the table. She had sewn them in ages ago, thinking blasting power might come in useful someday and not caring if it was somewhat precarious if her clothes were to find flame. Tearing at more inner hems produced enough small piles of black chips to divide evenly among the five metal spheres.

As the last of the chips were removed from the inner seams, one more light shake produced the small flower the child at Edoras had gifted her. It fell on top of the chips, wilted and misshapen, and several of its petals, now detached, caught the breeze from the tent's door and flew off the table. Dropping her jacket to the ground beside her, she picked the delicate item up in her hand and inspected its decayed form; sorrow overtook her momentarily and she clasped her hand around it. Squeezing harder, she killed its shape even more, as her eyes also shut in an attempt to find anger instead of sadness. Anger, for it was easier to hate than care, simpler to be detached than connected to those around her. She knew the numbers at Dunharrow were not enough to break Sauron's forces. No longer could she hope for the future she glimpsed while in Legolas's arms, and instead, as the flower became unrecognizable in her hand, she sought to refocus.  _I am only an instrument of death_ , she thought to herself,  _now put to use against the power that molded me_.

Standing by Gimli, Legolas sensed her shifting emotions, recognizing how their bond now allowed for such a connection to form. He hesitated whether to go to her, but Gimli noted his thoughts and prompted, "You should take her the rest of this," he stated finding him an excuse, while lifting the small pot of stew from the stand, "Otherwise there'll truly be none left," since he had already gone for another round in the meantime.

Legolas half-smiled, grateful for his friend's assistance, taking the lidded pot's hanging handle in his one hand and finding the tent's entrance with his feet. He wavered slightly, not sure if he would be disturbing her privacy, for he knew not what task she needed to complete inside. Pushing the tent's flap to the side, he glanced in, finding her seated with her back towards him, her bare skin illuminated by the light of the oil lamps within. He hesitated for propriety's sake, but she knew it was him and spoke to ease his reservations, "I do not consider myself indecent," she stated in Elvish, then turning her head to the side and glancing at him briefly, "Your company is always appreciated," she held her hand out and he went towards her, as his eyes inspected the black markings that graced her pale skin. There was Rhunic script running down her spine, words whose meaning she had shared with him at Helm's Deep, as well as other symbols sparsely decorating her back shoulders and arms. He was curious of them the first time he noticed their presence, but he did not know of what extent they ran. Elves did not mark their bodies as such, nor did men of high standing. For those in the West, they overtly represented her dangerous origins, as a ruthless member of a foreign horde. And while their presence may have displeased him in the past, now knowing her, he felt they flowed well with her personality and physique, for she had a woman warrior's body - neither frail nor soft, but thin and defined.

He took her hand in his, and brought the back of it to his lips, kissing it softly before he took a seat in the chair next to her, placing the pot of food on the table's side. This gesture brought her eyes back upon him, and she smiled appreciatively through any prior concerns, acknowledging again that she was comforted by his presence.

He slowly moved his eyes to her other hand, which held a metal sphere beneath it, the purpose of which he knew not until he viewed two small piles of black chips and similar devices lined up nearby. His returned gaze queried her purpose, but before explaining she handed him the metal orb in her hand. He slowly took it and inspected it mechanics. A majority of its body was smooth, except for a trap where the blasting chips could be inserted, yet there was more intricate metal and glass work at its base and a thin rope protruding from it as well. Removing her hand from his, Vez placed her fingers lightly atop the one he held to explain its workings, "This twine is inserted aside a small glass chamber filled with oil. When broken, it soaks the rope's end."

She then took an empty sphere from the table, and pointed to a rough piece of metal or flint attached near the rope. "This can be struck against other metal to ignite the outside rope," she brushed it against the tip of her sword's handle to demonstrate, "Once the rope burns down into the oil, the blasting powder inside will explode. One of these can break through the thick hide of a Mûmakil, bringing it down." Vezely seemed detached as she spoke, far removed from the emotions Legolas sensed had previously afflicted her. She began methodically filling the orb she held with one pile of black chips, adding, "I designed this long ago, but decided against implementation for they are not foolproof," she then smirked slightly in remembrance, "Several men blew themselves up in trials."

"You are reckless," he told her sarcastically, betraying his concern and turning her eyes to him quickly.

"I am young," she smiled slightly proud, remembering such discussion of her youth they had prior.

He took her hand again, now showing the concern in his eyes for her prior condition, but she believed it was concern for inventing such a horrible device, for she knew Elves would not dabble in mechanical instruments of destruction. It prompted her to remark hastily, "I never passed on its design, if that worries you. Knowledge of it will die with me."

He closed his eyes, "It is not your design that causes me worry," he spoke quietly, causing her to turn in her chair towards him, uncertain what he'd say. "You have lost hope," he stated with a hint of disappointment strained in his voice.

She looked at him confused at first before turning to equal concern; she placed her hand on the side of his face, causing him to open his eyes to hers, "It is not about hope anymore. We cannot win this fight, Legolas. It is statistically impossible," she confided her conviction, looking into his eyes with similar unease but with seriousness, removing her hand from him, she stated, "But before I die, I will take as many of them with me as I can. That is my hope now, it is all I have."

"It is not," he asserted, "You once told me before similar odds, to not despair," remembering his moments of doubt before the battle of Helm's Deep, and the comfort her confidence brought him, "Why now, on the eve of this battle, do you go against your own convictions?"

She knew what he said was true, she had not despaired before such a battle, entering it without a moment of hesitation or concern of falling. Thinking of how she had changed, she declared firmly, "I had nothing worthy to live for then, so I had no need for hope."

"And you foreclose it now in order to find your sword easier to wield," he added sternly, as if knowing her reasoning. She would easily forsake love and die without regret than find love a source of power to see her through it.

Vez was surprised how well he could read her, to give words to how she was feeling; she closed her eyes, saying sorrowfully, "I would not foreclose a future by your side but..." she stalled.

"Then do not," he interjected softly, noting her hesitation again; and adding optimism to bitter thoughts of losing, "Even on the shores beyond this world."

She looked at him, now more certain he did not know her worries were of finding her spirit trapped in the Halls of Mandos, barred from joining him in the lands of his kin. But could she form words to speak of it, or should she allow him more hope than she allowed herself? After a moment of considering the truth of her love for him she spoke quietly, "And if I cannot meet you there...If I fall," she suddenly found her voice again, "I may not make it to those shores."

He narrowed his eyes and tried to interject, but she quieted him with her fingers, as he had done to her evenings before, saying concerned, "You know this," and they exchanged mutual regret with their eyes, and pain of this acknowledgement showed on Legolas's face. A moment later she ran her fingers lightly around the tip of his ear and down the side braid in his hair, feeling its silk-like texture while her eyes admired its golden color for it was an all but uncommon hair tone in Rhun. An appreciative smile tried to cover her sorrow, "You have changed me...starting me on the path I always refused to take and I will forever be grateful for a glimpse at a life beyond this, for one by your side," her eyes remained removed from his as she added with regret, "I have given you so little in return..."

These final words confounded him, "That is not true," he protested, lifting her chin up and obliging her eyes back to his, "I once gave up my search for someone who could make me feel the way you do, to fill the void in my heart, relinquishing a desire for a life where I am never alone." For Elves did not love without conviction and his heart, now settled, could not simply find love again. He held hope that love would see them through this, and if she fell, she would be shown mercy and allowed to pass into the lands of their kin. He placed his hands on her forearms, saying sternly, "Now that I have found you, I am not giving up that future so do not request this of me."

Her heart dropped for he knew she was going to; she was going to ask him to not lead himself into despair if they were forever put asunder, for she believed such a fate was not worth her love. And while Legolas queried whether their pairing would cause controversy among his kin, he would not deny his heart's decision to be with her. He added steadily, "We will make it through this."

Looking him straight in his blue eyes, she saw the intensity she knew them for, ever since she first met their stern gaze in Mirkwood long ago. She wanted to tell him not to stake such claims, though she knew he truly believed there was hope for their future. While her fate was not yet decided, could she simply soak in his confidence? She breathed in heavily in an attempt to dissolve the sorrow that blurred her eyesight.

Noting her mixed thoughts and her desire to quell her emotions, he decided to turn her attention, adding firmly, "Now you should eat and rest. You have been attentive for days and I've seen you take little nourishment."

She smiled suddenly, amused at what appeared an attempt to command her; she nodded to his request, silently acknowledging she was not at her optimal strength. His hands were still on her forearms, but before he released them his eyes fell upon the markings gracing her right shoulder. There were several outlines of half circles, touching horizontally, abstractly forming birds soaring on the horizon.

Noting where he stalled his gaze, she spoke of their meaning. "They are gulls," she stated with a small smile, "I spent several years on a campaign out at sea. It was hard to return to land afterwards for I felt soothed by the water's waves crashing against the boat and the sound of the gulls flying overhead when near shore. This reminds me of that time."

Legolas suddenly remembered Galadriel's message to him at Lothlorien. _"Legolas Greenleaf,"_  she said,  _"Long under tree,_   _in joy thou hast lived. Beware of the Sea!_   _If thou hearest the cry of the gull on the shore,_   _thy heart shall then rest in the forest no more."_  He knew not what to make of this connection and tried to brush off any hint of concern for it in his reply to her, as she looked upon him curious to his thoughts. "Do they all hold such meaning?" he asked, returning to the present.

"They do. Perhaps one day I will share them all with you," she remarked slyly, liking the thought of his eyes upon her body.

He immediately blushed, knowing what she referred to, and he slowly moved his hands to hers before standing from his seat. She stood with him, her hands still grasped in his, wondering if she was too forward in her speech as she was forward in kissing him the prior evening. She was not attuned to proper etiquette or norms of courtship in these lands nor above what she deemed only natural lust for the one she loved. Legolas admitted to being overly aroused by her and desired nothing more than to take her in his arms and roam his fingers over her bare arms and back, but he felt he should not yet overstep such boundaries despite the fact that the circumstances disallowed for a proper courtship. He would try to uphold traditions for the sake of his people, and for her, for she deserved respect and for their relationship to not be mired in rumors of base desires run amok.

She looked down at their hands clasped together, knowing he may soon take his leave in hopes that she would eat and rest, though she wished he would stay at her side a little longer. She lifted their hands between them, and kissed the back of his fingers softly, noting his pleasure as she did so. She then spoke softly, "I will do what you ask. Know that you have soothed troubled thoughts."

The warmth of her lips against his skin and the sound of her voice calmed some of his lingering worries. She did not release his grasp immediately as he stepped away, and when she let go, he quickly desired to hold her hands again. He returned to Gimli's side, but the Dwarf had fallen asleep in his stool, snoring while leaning forward on his axe. Aragorn had left council with Theodon and arrived by his side shortly after. Legolas similarly encouraged his friend to rest before they would ride out tomorrow. Soon the fair Elf was left alone to his thoughts, resting his mind while leaning on his long bow slightly. To keep his mind steady, he envisioned a future away from war, back in his homeland, with her hand in his and the forest surrounding them.

After returning her now operational metal spheres to her rucksack and putting back on her jacket which now was noticeably lighter, Vez followed the orders she was lovingly given. Eating what little was left of the stew made her stomach warm and helped ease her to sleep; despite the cot not being the most comfortable sleeping apparatus. After purposefully clearing some troubled thoughts and replaying in her mind his endearing words, her mind was able to drift off.

* * *

Legolas instantly grew aware of the camp's approaching visitor, and he silently made his way to the cliff face to welcome him.

"Greetings," he said in Elvish, showing deference to the hooded figure by bowing his head and taken his hand to his chest before extending it forward. While the hooded man on horseback was unannounced, Legolas knew it was Lord Elrond and his purpose was in regards to Aragorn.

"Greetings, Legolas. You know why I am here. For the time is right," he replied assuredly, dismounting from his horse's saddle.

Legolas instinctively took the horse's reigns as if an esquire, for Lord Elrond deserved such courtesy. He then queried his suspicion, "The sword has been reforged?"

Elrond nodded in affirmative response. "I will need to speak to King Theodon before Aragorn is summoned, but first," he looked at him sincerely, "You and your father's previous visitor, I would like to speak to her."

Legolas knew he spoke of Vezely, and he began escorting Elrond and his horse to the tent where she was resting. As he tethered the horse's reigns nearby, he stated concerned, "She has questions, ones I could not answer," hoping Elrond would provide her this knowledge.

Elrond turned towards Legolas and cupped his hand on his shoulder, "And questions you also have," he stated knowingly. "Long ago I asked you not to trouble yourself with her troubles because I knew in time you would become enmeshed in them. That you have accepted and assisted her this far, I am grateful." Legolas nodded in deference to his gratitude, noting internally how he no longer viewed doing so as a task. Elrond continued, "But your path will now lead you from her side, as she will similarly embark on her own journey."

Legolas was disheartened to hear that they were soon to be parted, and sensing such Elrond added, "Fear not, you are stabilizing force for her on this road."

"As she is for me," he replied assuredly.

Elrond sensed his conviction, and a bond he may have formed with her, yet he did not question its depth. 

Legolas decided to first alert Vez of Elrond's presence, entering quietly and adjusting the oil lamp's flame to further illuminate the small space. She was curled up on her side on the cot, not facing him, though she stirred from the muffled sounds and the light, turning on her back and slowly opening her eyes to find him kneeling beside her cot.

"Vezely," hewhispered, his hand softly caressing the side of her face, watching enchanted as her eyes opened to his. "I am sorry to wake you, but there is a visitor from Rivendell who has requested to speak with you." Her eyes suddenly went wide and alert, knowing whom he referred. He offered her his hand for assistance up, confiding in his eyes encouragement as she was about to confront the unknown, "I will send him in."

Vezely stood there uneasy, her nerves afire, for she would look upon the one who her current life would not have been possible. For without his interference, she would have been brought down with Dol Guldur when the White Council stormed it and drove out Sauron. A moment after Legolas stepped out, a tall cloaked figure entered, dressed in long regal, velvet robes, exuding a presence of authority.

As he slowly removed his hood, Vezely immediately knelt to the ground in deference, "Lord Elrond," she greeted, unable to look him in the eye. Finding her Elvish voice, she added, "I am indebted to you."


	18. Broken Paths

Elrond cuffed the oversize sleeve of his velvet cloak over his hand as he knelt in front of the young Elf before him; using his fingers to gently prompt her chin up, meeting her wary gaze with determined inquisition. He investigated the color of her eyes, the freckles outlining the bridge of her nose and cheeks, realizing this was indeed the child once placed in his arms over five centuries ago; yet she was also not the same. Her eyes once full of youthful glow now betrayed a twisted and dark past, while the missing tip of her ear symbolized her fall from grace. Likewise, Vezely inspected his wizened face; seeing in his age lines the wisdom of time, and in his grey orbs the remnants of many futures he had seen come to pass. Though his gaze was stern, she could perceive he held a gentle heart, and one currently troubled; though she knew not whether such pain went beyond the commonality of all who were alive in these dark times, or if they were of a more personal matter.

" _Nwalmaer_ (tormented one)," he addressed her solidly in Elvish, his voice commanding but gentle, "It is what I named you for such a tragedy to befall our kind is uncommon. Yet that was not your name when first we met," he stated a moment later, prompting her to stand with a gentle prodding of her forearm.

Not fond of the title she was given or to be told of another estranged name, especially when there was other information she desired to know, led Vezely to respond somewhat brazenly, "But I stand before you ill-suited for either."

He held his head high, narrowing his eyes on hers after having further taken in her unconventional appearance. He sensed her unease and knew he would need to consider his words carefully before speaking them. He conceded with raised eyebrow, "You have questions."

"And you have answers," she responded quickly, and then slightly mitigating her forthright stance, knowing she was being impolite, "I do not want to appear ungrateful, for undoubtedly I am for I would not be alive without your aid, but I do question your reasoning in saving me from Dol Guldur."

After a moment he stated knowingly, "You question whether you are worthy of redemption."

Her eyes shifted away from him, considering her words as he was considering his. Returning a serious gaze, she spoke solidly, "I am not _Nwalmaer_ , but one who tormented others. I may have been Sauron's pawn, taken for his needs, but I also willingly submitted to his will, and took pleasure fulfilling his purpose. Present remorse aside, offering me a second chance, a path to redemption for shared bloodline alone...such favor may have been misplaced."

Elrond noted the emotions circulating behind her words. He sensed her continued uncertainty of place and position in this world, one he hoped further information could stabilize. He stated, "Your father asked me to protect you," getting straight to the reason for his aid.

"My father?" Vez inquired, her eyes wavering, "You are aware I have no memories from before I was taken."

He had known this, for the Blue Wizard had sent him correspondences on her recovery. "Sauron repressed them. For such memories of your parent's love and your true homeland would have inevitably driven you from his grasp long ago," he explained, also knowing though not mentioning that Sauron continued to hold some power over her psyche - the reason why these memories did not return and her scars would not heal. He then provided further details of her birth parents, "Eluréd, son of Dior and Nimloth, he was your father. He survived his abandonment as a child, but his twin, Elurín, did not. The torment of losing his brother led him into desired exile, and he lived his life under an alias in the Woodland Realm. Even his sister, Elwing, did not know. His lingering uncertainty of life on these shores was however, mended by the love of your mother, a Woodland Elf by the name of Rovian. They lived what seemed like a blissful existence, even though Eluréd feared what he perceived as the curse of his bloodline. This fear grew even more cogent when you were conceived. He desired nothing more than to sail to the Utter West, but Rovian was not yet prepared to leave her homeland and desired to wait until after you were born; until you had experienced life in their homeland so such memories could also be yours in Valinor..."

Vezely's eyes showed her uneasiness at this information, knowing that her parent's decision to wait on these shores ended in their murder by invading Orcs. Such a history prompted her to conceive that her bloodline was truly cursed.

He continued steadily, "...His fears and visions prompted him to relinquish his anonymity and contact me. I promised, as I held you in my arms, to protect you if anything should happen...It was not suspected that you survived the Orc attack that took your parent's life until your armies descended on the Wold. It was then confirmed when you entered Northern Mirkwood."

"And yet King Thranduil released me?" Vez considered out loud, appearing to bypass acknowledgment of her parent's care for her, for they still felt distanced from her current life. Instead, she interrogated Elrond on this incident, "For he knew, as you did."

Elrond was undeterred by her bold curiosity, "You could not simply be broken from Sauron's grasp. Such detachment would need to be of your own making. It was your imprisonment in Dol Guldur that proved to the White Council that you had forged your own path away from Sauron's will; that you were not beyond redemption."

Vezely was strained in contemplation; she closed her eyes, trying to quell her mixed emotions, "It is hard to see my imprisonment as worthy of such esteemed consideration by your council, for it does not account for the terrible things I have done. And my disobedience to Sauron, if you can even consider it such, was falsely magnified by the whispers of my second in command, who desired my position and power."

"And yet here you are professing humility in the face of it, and remorse upon reflection," Elrond responded profoundly. "Even the smallest seed can grow. Despite your uncertainty, you are on the right path."

She kept her strained eyes from his. He was a sage whose blood she truly shared, but whose wisdom she obviously did not. She shook her head slightly in disbelief, though no words could be found, as she thought of her insignificance in questioning his knowledge. She tried to hold her tongue and still her thoughts of disagreement.

Having his own inquiry, Elrond asked boldly, "Now I have a question for you," which caused her eyes to quickly turn to his, "You survived the dungeons of Dol Guldur without falling into despair or madness; how is this so?" For he thought of his wife, Celebrian, who was captured and tormented by Orcs, thereafter suffering an emotional wound that would not heal, therefore prompting her to sail into the Utter West.

She straightened her posture, gaining some pride from what she considered her reason for survival, "Sauron thought as you did, that I would be destroyed in my cell; that I would succumb to what he deemed as the emotional weakness of my blood. But he woefully underestimated the influence of whose hands he placed me. I was raised a Balchoth. To die without a sword in my hand, in the cage of your enemy, is to fail at all your desires in life."

He seemed slightly surprised, for it seemed incomprehensible that her adopted culture that turned her into a ruthless killer also saved her. "I sense you now stand as two sides of the same coin and yet you remain unsure of how to be one."

"And my struggle with reconciliation will remain incomplete," she replied solidly. "I do not know the main purpose of your journey to Dunharrow, but unless you brought with you a substantial army, Rohan does not have enough men to win this fight. You know this as well as I."

His eyes narrowed on hers; surprised she had already admitted defeat even without knowing as he did of the Corsairs ships sailing towards Gondor. He decided to provide her insight as to his journey, "There is an army yet to be summoned and one who could summon it. I bring information and hope that it will be done," he then added encouragingly, placing a hand on her shoulder, "Stay your path as others forge theirs."

She discerned this information had the possibility of altering this war's trajectory, while also suspecting her path would now truly be set apart from Legolas's, making her heart ache. Instead of questioning him further, she nodded in solidarity, "I will remain grateful to you for allowing me to be on such a path, wherever it leads."

Accepting her gratitude with a small smile, he looked one last time at her eyes. Perhaps, he thought, the light of the Eldar had not yet abandoned her. The thought of his daughter Arwen crossed his mind and the pain of her decision to be mortal hit his heart. But knowing his time was short, he did not let his thoughts or eyes linger and made his leave, providing comfort in his final words, "I have brought you armor. Wear it with the pride of your blood, as you fight with the strength of your culture."

Her eyes showed surprise not only at the gift, but also for his words. She bowed her head humbly, not knowing how else to express thanks.

* * *

Legolas patiently waited by Gimli until Elrond finished his conversation with Vezely, hoping she would learn more about her past than he could provide her before. Gimli remained asleep in his chair, snoring in his usual manner. Legolas did not wish to stir him, hoping to give his friend as much rest as possible before they would depart. He would soon lead Elrond to King Theodon's tent, knowing not to pry on the previous conversation, despite his own curiosity.

"Your father is proud of you, Legolas," Elrond spoke along their way, referring to Legolas's initiative to join the fellowship, "As are your people."

Humbled by such announcement, Legolas responded gratefully, "If only I could be in both places at once, for I know war now marches on my homeland."

"Cloud not your thoughts with uncertainty of your current path," he said encouragingly. "There is still hope for this world whose shores we must all inevitably leave."

Legolas bowed his head as Elrond entered King Theodon's tent, gaining some peace from the elder's words. Knowing he was short on time, he returned quickly to the tent where Vez remained, finding the young Elf outside kneeling on the ground, inspecting the silver armor given to her by her kin. She had not worn armor since her days as a general, and even then, her Easterling armor, though highly sophisticated, did not match the craftsmanship of what she now inspected before her. It was strong, expertly crafted, and surprisingly lightweight. The metal was layered in thin sheets to allow for ease of movement, and it appeared to have been fitted for her frame. She was staring blankly down at the helmet in her lap, appearing to inspect its exterior though in reality she was deep in contemplation of the prior conversation - she was uncertain whether to simply accept the wisdom of her kin and have hope, especially when she'd be separated from the one who helped her hold onto it. She heard Legolas approaching and turned her head towards him, meeting his fair eyes with equal bittersweet acknowledgement; their time together was near its end. She spoke to him softly in Elvish, hoping to not alert others to their personal conversation. "Our paths diverge," she confirmed, stating the words neither of them desired to hear.

He offered her his hand and she placed the helmet on the ground next to her before taking it, using it to lightly position herself in front of him, though she did not release it once there.

"I must go with Aragorn," he said with conviction in front of her, his eyes not fully hiding his sorrow over leaving her.

"And I must stay with Rohan," she replied with equal certainty, though her eyes were full of unease.

"But we will meet again," Legolas stated, his strong gaze inquiring her to believe him, for he still worried of her wavering uncertainty. As if seeking reassurance, he added, "For our destination will always be the same."

Slight optimism in the form of a small smile graced Vezely's face, "I will do what I have to in order to be at your side again," she replied solidly, her demeanor and words displaying the little hope she held onto. She at least wanted to let him know that it was her desired destination as well.

Grateful for her acknowledgement of this, a moment later he added in all too common tone taken between them, "Don't be too reckless;" his smooth sarcasm being an attempt at levity.

His words amused her enough to crack her melancholy demeanor; she retorted slyly with one eyebrow raised, "At least I have proper armor now," for he had posed concern for its absence prior to the battle at Helm's Deep.

A wide smile grew across his face, realizing he had similar worries for her back then as he did now, even if he knew she could handle fighting without armor. The way his smile lit up his face was infectious, causing Vezely's own lips to mirror his. Seeing her so prompted Legolas to look upon her with eyes knowing it would be some time before he could do so again. He roamed the freckles lining the bridge of her nose and cheeks, the motley colors encircling the black pupils of her eyes, the softness of her lips, hoping to remember these finer details when they were apart.

Vez noted his investigation and how soft his eyes felt on her, realizing that she did not mind being observed as such by him. But as he did this, she saw a glimmer of sorrow behind his gaze, as if he was questioning as she had whether they would see each other again. She brought her hands to sides of his face, turning his eyes to center on hers, "We will meet again on the battlefield," she asserted trying to believe it herself, and desiring to give him the reassurance she also needed, "And we will fight by each others side and stand together in the sun of victory."

Legolas saw the same intensity she had in her eyes prior to the battle of Helm's Deep; a return of her battle-ready optimism, bred into her from her adopted culture. The odds did not matter. Such certainty had calmed him prior to that battle, as it calmed him now.

She then, as before, added her clan's words, the meaning of the ink markings down her spine, "Strength in time of darkness, courage in time of fear, death to those who oppose you."

"And not your own," he added as he had before, as an appreciative smile graced his lips.

"Not your own," she replied with a similar tone, feeling as he did the warmth of this recent nostalgia. She lightly ran her fingers from his cheeks to the tips of his ears, causing him to close his eyes in the pleasure of her light touch. She considered momentarily to press her lips against his, but forewent her desire, knowing perhaps she had been too bold in doing so before. Instead her eyes graced the features of his face, noting how the moonlight reflected on his pale skin, the sharp angles of his cheekbones, his long black eyelashes, doing what he did just prior, but feeling as if she may not see him again. He reopened his eyes to hers, finding in them a similar longing to not forget. Suddenly, he engaged his own impulse and embraced her, pulling her body into his, and kissing her gently. She was taken aback by his action at first, not expecting he would take the initiative, but she easily reciprocated, running her fingertips over his ears into his soft hair, clasping her hands behind his neck, and giving him reign over her body with his embrace.

Mere seconds later, an interruption came in the form of a gruff "hmmph," for Gimli had unknowingly encroached upon their intimate space.

Their bittersweet kiss came to a halt; their lips parted and they opened their eyes, while Vez quickly moved her hands to his shoulders and he moved his from her upper back to around her waist. They smiled at each other slightly embarrassed by being discovered, before looking upon Gimli who attempted to act normal for he knew of their secret romance for some time.

"We should probably go lad," Gimli spoke apologetically, having heard Aragorn saddling up and gauging his purpose to leave before the dawn.

Legolas nodded to his friend, before looking at Vezely as they were both starting to release their embrace. Holding his one hand firmly, her eyes displayed to him the same confidence she had prior their kiss to let him know she held onto some hope that they would see each other again. He gave her a similar look of confidence before moving from her side to grab his gear; their hands releasing only when his steps took him too far away.

"Until we meet again lass," Gimli said as farewell to her.

Vez looked upon him kindly, hoping it would be so, and then saying determined, "And if it is on the battlefield, I will try to save some Orcs for you."

He chuckled at a comment he would have made, before also turning away from her with a hopeful smile. Legolas turn his gaze upon her one last time before moving to where their horse was tethered. Their eyes met and exchanged a final reassurance of their commitment to their shared destination.

* * *

As the three travelers left the camp, riding on horseback towards the Dimholt Road, a gathering of Rohan's soldiers started querying, worriedly, as to why the group was departing. Vezely, arms crossed and in contemplation, watched the three riders from afar, overhearing the conversation taking place.

"Why does he leave on the eve of battle?" One soldier asked concerned.

Gamling, who held highest rank among them, replied disturbed, "He leaves because there is no hope."

Theodon had joined them from the side, the same concern in his eyes, not for Aragorn's departure, but for his men's feeling of despair. "He leaves because he must," he stated forthrightly, knowing the truth.

Gamling, suspecting as others that their troop numbers were too low since not many more men arrived that night, replied carefully, "Too few have come. We cannot defeat the armies of Mordor."

Theoden knew this as well, "No, we cannot," he looked at several of his men momentarily, then gaining strength in his eyes, he added proudly, "But we will meet them in battle _nonetheless_."

Vezely noted the king's confidence, the intensity in his eyes, the assurance in his voice; he was prepared to lead his men against whatever odds, to serve as their steadfast leader, and to not turn away in despair. They needed a role model, a leader, and his current stance provided it. As he left his men, he passed near her, stopping momentarily and engaging his eyes briefly with hers, "We will hold council before we depart."

Vez nodded in deference to his request, knowing now with her companions gone, she was truly at the mercy of the king's demands. She would return to the tent to gather her belongings, finding Merry standing outside slightly unsure of his bearings, having been left behind as a lone member of the fellowship, and feeling somewhat discarded.

Vez approached him with a commiserating smile, placing a hand on his shoulder, "You are not alone, Merry," and then adding encouragingly, "We should pack up, it is nearly dawn."

Merry appreciated her acknowledgment of his predicament and having a task to complete helped move each of them past the uneasiness of their comrades' departure. Vez retrieved her rucksack from inside the tent, and transferred her blasting powder spheres into her saddle bag, realizing while sifting through her other items, that none of them needed to make the journey into battle - the empty tea tin, the broken brush and dried inkwell, even her memory book and maps. Holding her memory book in her hands, she felt its familiar weight, noted the spots where its cover was most worn, and she ran her fingers over where its binding was becoming unhinged. She thought of the personal stories she wrote on its pages and how when they first flooded back into her mind after captivity, they had not made sense or connected in any fluid manner. No longer did she need to remember the past via written word, for her mind had recovered and the pieces all fit together again. Without a moment more of hesitation, she let the book slide from her hands into the flames of the fire pit below, which graciously enveloped it as needed fuel, turning the tattered paper into cinders and ash. She watched it burn as if observing an experiment, not seeing such a act as symbolic of moving on or letting go of her past. No, her past was not to be forgotten; it should not be. Instead, she thought longingly of the memories the book and her mind did not contain - those of her childhood in Mirkwood, of the parents that bore her, and the love they must have given her before their deaths. She wondered why these memories continued to elude her.

Only a mirror and a charcoal pencil would be salvaged from her belongings, stashed in her rucksack's front pocket, and soon to be used in ritual preparation for battle. She would line her eyes as an Easterling, but wear the armor of her Elvish kin, embracing both her sides while fighting against the armies of the One who divided her.

Before dawn broke, Vez would find Eowyn standing in contemplation of the morning's events. She was staring down on the camp below from the cliff's face, weary and hesitant of her current position - unsure whether to break in the direction of her desires or return to Edoras as was her requested duty.

Vez noted her delicate condition, suspecting more then this choice hung over her head, though not fully knowing that the sting of unrequited love still lingered in her. "I know not the words of comfort to offer you," Vez stated truthfully, but kindly while at her side, also looking at the camp down below, which started to stir with the creeping sunlight.

"They need not be said," Eowyn replied gaining some self-assurance now knowing her female companion did not depart with the others. She added steadily, "I have made my decision." This caused Vez to turn to her in anticipation. "I will fight in this war."

To aid her, Vez usurped armor and clothing from empty tents nearby, for Eowyn would need to be disguised as just another one of Rohan's soldiers. Handing her these items, the two women exchanged a look of confidence of the paths set before them. "I will not speak to you again," Vez told her, knowing doing so would alert others of her presence and run the risk of sending her away. She then added with a small smile, her hand on her forearm, saying words she shared with her once before, "Remember, it's a man's world, not because it should be, but because we let them have it."

Eowyn smiled kindly at the woman warrior, nodding to agree, and feeling grateful for her continued validation of her cause. She then added as her farewell, "I hope we will meet again."

"So do I," Vez replied optimistically before leaving Eowyn to her transformation. She knew the shield maiden's courage would not waver and sensed she would do great things on the battlefield.

* * *

Now dressed in elvish armor and with her eyes lined in charcoal, Vezely headed to King Theodon's tent to hold council before they would all ride to Gondor, and likely to their deaths.


	19. On the Fields of Pelennor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought a timeline would help place things - I melded Vezely's story with actual events in the Third Age.
> 
> Vezely's T.A. Timeline  
> > TA 2455: Born  
> > TA 2460: Sauron returns to Middle-earth and establishes himself in Dol Guldur in southern Mirkwood.  
> > TA 2461: Orcs begin to raid Mirkwood elf territory. Vezely's parents, Elured and Rovian are among the first causalities. Sauron desired an elf child to pervert as revenge for the elves' refusal of an alliance long ago. The child, Vezely, is taken to Dol Guldur and given by Sauron to the Balchoth, a fierce clan of Easterling warriors, to raise as their own in preparation for his future plans. Her memories are repressed to aid in her transition.  
> > TA 2510: Under orders of Sauron, the Balchoth led by Vezely, and other clans of Easterlings invade Rhovanion and Gondor, conquering much of Calenardhon. The alliance between Rohan and Gondor comes into existence. The Easterlings launch a massive invasion of Gondor, but are driven back by the people of Éothéod; Gondor gives the now-uninhabited province of Calenardhon to the people of Éothéod.  
> > TA 2545: The Balchoth engages Rohan at the Battle of the Wold. Eorl the Young, 1st king of Rohan, dies in the battle, slain by Vezely. In retreat, Vezely enters Northern Mirkwood with a small band of surviving Balchoth, seeking a quicker route to Dol Guldur. Vezely barely survives a skirmish with the Woodland guard. King Thranduil treats her wounds and releases her. Vezely returns to Dol Guldur, and Sauron makes her a general in charge of restructuring and managing the Easterling armies, who, due to their prior defeats, have proven inadequate to conquer the West.  
> > TA 2545-2860: Vezely spends her time on campaigns forcing submission of the East to Sauron, while perfecting war strategies and building a proper army for the eventual invasion of the West.  
> > TA 2901: Betrayed by her second in command, Öldür, who helped deem her as untrustworthy due to a string of "softer" war tactics, Sauron imprisons Vezely in the dungeons of Dol Guldur.  
> July, TA 2941: The White Council drives Sauron out of Dol Guldur. Elrond, her blood cousin, convinces the White Council to release Vezely and put her under the care of the Blue Wizards who assist her in regaining her memory and strength. She becomes an unlikely and slightly unwilling member of the resistance.  
> > 3019: Vezely is relocated to the West by the Blue Wizards to fight in the War of the Ring; at the end of February she meets Gandalf, Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas on the edge of Fangorn Forest - chapter 1 commences.

Right after dawn broke, the camp at Dunharrow was in the full swing preparing to leave for Gondor. Now fully armed, her horse saddled, eyes lined in black, and body adorned in the silver armor gifted to her by her Elvish kin, Vezely entered King Theodon's lavishly adorned tent. Banners lined the interior walls, motley colored animal skins adorned the floor as rugs, and a table strewn with maps and spent candles took Vezely back to the time when she was a general, having lived in tents of similar aesthetic. Theodon stood with one hand leaning on the table before him, contemplating the route they were about to depart on, while Eomer stood aside him, his posture straight and demeanor determined. Both were also dressed in their full battle gear - chain mail and intricately detailed, red and gold toned leather chest plates. The guard outside had announced Vezely's entrance, though the two horse lords did not stop their conversation when she stepped inside.

Finishing his sentence on line divisions, Theodon spoke to her without turning his head, "We need your Elf eyes before our approach," he told her, desiring her to scout ahead of the troops and report back on the forces ahead of them. He then added bluntly, "And you will fight alongside Eomer's eored."

She gauged this information was equally unexpected to his nephew, who turned his suddenly widened eyes upon his uncle, internally querying why he would have her fight beside him and his men, especially when he continued to place little trust in her.

Vezely nodded to the request, "As you wish," she answered politely, unconcerned about her placement as long as she could fight.

Theodon then added, "Eomer, your eored will engage the Variags if they join us, for our strongest riders are best suited for their chariots."

Eomer did not disagree with this assessment, since the eored were Rohan's most advanced horsemen, and though he remained uncertain about Theodon's prior command of having Vezely in her troop, he nodded in acceptance.

Appearing to have settled his plans, Theodon removed his hand from the table and straightened his posture. "Good," then placing a hand firmly on Eomer's forearm next to him, he requested his nephew to specific task, "Let all know we must ride light and swift. It's a long road ahead. Men and beast must reach the end with strength to fight." Eomer then left for the entrance, causing Vezely to step aside. She bowed her head respectfully as he left; an act which Eomer acknowledged but did not reciprocate.

After Eomer left, Theodon stood before her, now engaging her with his stern eyes, "I have another request."

Vezely was uncertain what he could desire, but conceded to accept it.

"Look after my nephew," he said with sincere concern hidden under a firm demeanor, "He is Rohan's future and one I would have set forth."

Not necessarily at ease with playing bodyguard, but without much sway to reject such orders, Vezely replied steadily, "I will do what I can to help ensure that future, as part of my debt to Rohan and to you for the mercy you have shown."

His eyes showed appreciation; he considered saying he did not regret providing her this mercy, though held back words of gratitude. Vez did not expect any such words either.

As they departed the tent, with Vez trailing behind the king, Theodon spoke slightly intrigued, turning his head to the side, "You get to witness a repeat of history. Rohan and Gondor together again under one banner."

It was true that it was her people's invasion of Rhovanion and Gondor that led to the first alliance between the two states of men. An unpleasant past to have mentioned, but one which Vez found herself able to reply to the king with sincerity, "And may it again prove itself strong, for all our sakes."

* * *

Vezely rode Gizik hard, trekking far ahead Rohan's forces to gain sight of their future engagement. Gizik was a horse perfectly suited for such a task; bred as a swift desert war horse, able to make long treks and never tire of carrying a rider. Vezely had many horses over her lifespan, but Gizik was her first personal horse since her captivity in Dol Guldur; having won her in a gambling match from a man who drank too much and bid his possessions hastily - a poor trait when put against a seasoned gambler as herself. The horse had seen only minor skirmishes before coming West, but she was well prepared for the battle before them, as her breed was known for having a steadfast demeanor, undeterred by the shock that war could induce. In the past years, the horse also became her confidant, especially on her journey out West when she crossed inhospitable lands and dealt with the harsh realities of her own insecurity. She patted the horse's neck upon her stop on a ridge overlooking Gondor's valleys below, thanking her for her steadfast friendship, since the battle before them could lay waste to both their lives.

There she was able to peer beyond to the White City of Minas Tirith, standing bright against a dark rock face of the expanding mountain range behind it. She could see the outline of a black mass of Orcs encircling the fields outside its gates. The surrounding air smelled foul of the wafting remnants of burnt wood and flesh, while the shadows of smoke could be spotted on the grounds at the bottom level of the city's many layers. Once closer she discovered the lower level had been breached, the Orc armies were substantial as expected, and she spotted to the north and east other legions advancing - confirming her assumptions of the Haradrim and Variags joining the battle.

She would ride back to relay this information, her keen eyesight finding the troops stopped alongside a lake to rest momentarily and to take food and drink. Eomer met her on a ridge nearby, looking upon her sternly after she relayed her information, considering breaking words of warning for her to obey his orders when given to his eored.

But before such words could be dispersed from his mouth, Vez added her own, saying earnestly, "In another time, you and I would be enemies, but today we fight common cause and with common heart. Fear not my allegiance or my ability to follow orders."

He breathed in heavily through his nostrils, quelling what prior was a desire to chastise her, "Enemies indeed, but I will cast prior concern aside. All I ask is you live up to your expectations."

Vez nodded respectfully, adding solidly before he left, "I have one request," causing Eomer's eyes to narrow on her, for he deemed her not in a position to make any, "The leader of the Variags, he is mine."

Eomer had heard of her suspicion that the leader was her former second in command, one who betrayed her and had a hand in her imprisonment. "Fair enough, I will not stand in your way," he conceded; he knew he could not keep her from long desired revenge.

He took off towards the encampment, and Vez trailed behind him, her eyes scanning the legion of horsemen for a shield maiden and a hobbit of the Shire. Upon spotting them, she did not let her eyes linger for fear of garnering Eowyn unnecessary attention, but internally she was grateful the two would engage in battle alongside her; admiring that their convictions to do so were nobler than her own. Her thoughts inevitably shifted to her other three Western companions, far afield on a task she did not know the specifics of or whether they would succeed and join them on the battlefield she just viewed from afar. Legolas's touch yet lingered in her mind, the taste of his lips still on her mouth. A strange sweetness to carry into war, but carry it she did, along with the little hope she yet held onto in her heart.

* * *

Legolas stood aboard the Corsair ship as they sailed down the River Anduin past the port of Pelargir. Aragorn had successfully enticed the Men of the Mountain to aid their cause, dispatching the pirates that once manned the ship's docks. They were steadily treading their way to Minas Tirith, hoping to make it in time to lend aid to Rohan's forces.

Near the port, white gulls soared overhead, mewing as they swooped downward towards the shuffling waters; their sounds in unison with the crashing waves that hit against the wooden boards of the ship's hull as it pushed through them. These sounds soothed Legolas and his heart felt adrift. His mind filled with thoughts of the land beyond these shores, of Valinor; a home he never knew, but the home that all elves must one day depart to. He never had such thoughts occupy his mind before - a pure longing to go to a place other than his homeland. _The call of the Valar_ had found him, as Galadriel foretold in Lothlorien. Yet as it soothed, it also stirred troubled thoughts. He knew not why he should hear it now, in the midst of this war, and after finding the one he desired to spend eternity with. Was it an omen? Did it speak of the fate of the one who held his heart; of his own? Would they only be able to meet again on those shores beyond?

Aragorn placed a hand upon his friend's shoulder, "We will make it in time," he told him sincerely, hoping to ease woes with reassurance.

Legolas nodded, but saying concerned, "As my mind goes to distant shores." He turned towards his friend, engaging him with his eyes and saying steadily, "Beware the sea. The omen Lady Galadriel spoke of. I believe my time to leave these shores has come."

Aragorn's eyes showed unease, for he hoped such longing did not suggest he would take the alternate route to Valinor, which was death.

Legolas placed a hand on Aragorn's forearm, "But my commitment to the fellowship is stronger," he added determined, knowing what worry lay in his friend's head. "I will not sail away until such bonds are untied. You have my word."

While their ships carried the reinforcement needed to decimate the forces amassed at Minas Tirith, their only true hope of ending this war and defeating Sauron and his armies of darkness lay with two hobbits of the Shire, slowly trekking their way into Mordor. They knew not their progress or whether they still lived. All they could do was take one battle at a time.

* * *

Rohan's arrival was proudly announced by the blast of a dozen horns, as the horse riders halted momentarily along a heightened crest, in preparation to engage their enemies upon the fields of Pelennor. Their eyes were immediately assaulted by the mass of Orcs standing before the White City, whose bottom level lay thick in smoke and licking flames; tarnished were its ivory walls, as dark clouds further hid them from the sun's light.

Breathing was halted amongst the front lines as they witnessed the masses before them; an expected number no doubt, but overwhelming to the visual senses. Vezely, who was stationed alongside the other eored, looked upon Sauron's forces with her mind attempting calculation of the numbers, comparing them to her prior estimates and garnering some pride upon finding them close to accurate. She breathed in steadily, undeterred by the near future, her adrenaline already kicking in - she was prepared and eager to enter her element.

Ahead of his legions, King Theodon turned his horse quickly. With his eyes determined and fearless, he commanded his men with steadfast voice, "Eomer! Take your eored down the left side."

"Yes, my lord," Eomer responded at his side before kicking his horse into gear.

"Gamling, follow the King's banner down the center. Grimbold, take your company right, after you pass the wall. Forth, and fear no darkness!" Now alone up front, Theodon addressed his men, ascending his voice far afield. "Arise! Arise! Riders of Theoden! Spears shall be shaken, shields shall be splintered! A sword-day! A red day, _ere the sun rises_!" He clanked his sword against spears while riding down the line in front of them, putting courage into all who heard his voice and witnessed his commanding presence. "Ride now, ride now, ride! Ride for ruin and the world's ending! Death!"

The final word resounded and repeated amongst them. A battle call that easily stirred Vezely's warrior heart, for her clan's words also sung in her head, and she swelled with anticipation of the blood she would soon spill on the fields before her.

"Forð Eorlingas!" Horns would also announce their descent into battle, as momentum took their horse's steady gallops into a full charge. Arrows were shot, riders were discharged from their horses, but their line was not easily broken. They crashed into the Orc lines, easily dispatching their numbers from the high position of horseback. Too easily perhaps that Thoedon forgot that Orcs were not the only legions ready to meet them on the field that day. As Eomer commanded his eored to drive the Orcs to the river, with many already fleeing the steel that greeted them, Theodon called to all, "Make safe this city."

Yet immediately following his elation, the earth began to tremble below them. Their heads turned before their horses; their eyes finding a line of over twenty mûmakil quickly coming their way.

"Saladan," the name of the Haradrim's leader escaped Vezely's lips, as a corner of her mouth curled up, "Impressive," she added, for such display of force that simultaneously shook the ground below them and visually set palpable fear into the hearts of those around her was an admirable psychological tactic. Despite her removal from a life where she was steeped in such battlefield productions, she could not help but think highly of such ability. Vezely turned Gizik towards them, waiting anxiously for Theodon to call his riders forward, knowing they would need to be engaged head-on, and hoping she would not need to step in and make any commands.

A moment later, Theodon also turned his stallion towards them and yelled, "Reform the line! Reform the line!" Riders lined up quickly, trusting their king's judgment. "Sound the charge!"

Gamling sounded the horn, stirring courage back into his men, before Theodon commanded firmly, "Rohirrim! Charge!"

Vezely knew this tactic would initially spill the blood of many of her brother in arms, for the mûmakil had been trained to sweep and stomp men and horses below them. General Saladan had also reinforced their tusks and ankles with crude wooden spikes and barbed ropes, furthering the range of their destruction. Yet their line needed to be broken and space put in between them in order to allow for the men to engage each individually with room to ride from harm's way. Gizik zigzagged, finding her and her rider through the danger zone before moving behind the great beast. Vezely reached into her saddle bag, her hand quickly grabbing one of the blasting powder spheres. She whacked it against her sword's hilt, cracking the glass vile of oil inside; following with another swipe of the flint to ignite the twine. Upon completing another pass underneath the grey beast, she hoisted it upward towards the attached tower, where it easily found a space to comfortably sit undetected by the Haradrim who were preoccupied raining arrows down on the Rohirrim below.

"Clear out!" she called high and clear, mentally counting down as she rode out, expecting the loud blast that soon shook the air around them and broke through the hide of the beast it sat upon, tumbling it to the ground. She quickly moved along and provided others a shared fate.

While the mûmakil had been successfully scattered from their death march, individually they posed equal threat. The arrows shot from Rohan's bowmen were ineffective against their thick, impenetrable hides. Finding a spear ripe for plucking from the carcass of a dead Orc, Vezely ran Gizik in the opposite direction before turning her to charge a mûmakil head on - the horse's speed providing her thrust extra momentum as she released the spear straight into the eye of the beast. A smirk cracked her serious demeanor, grateful her aim had not left her.

The chaos of the battle between mûmakil, Haradhrim, Orcs, and Rohirrim, provided enough blindness to those engaged on the field that the Variags' approach would have gone unnoticed if not for Vezely's prior knowledge of their marching route. She continued to peer north to alert Eomer of when they were in range.

"Eomer, Variags to the north!" she cried, turning Eomer's attention.

"Eored!" Eomer called to his legion, "Rally to me!"

As the remaining eored rejoined Eomer, Vezely's eyes scanned the dual horse drawn chariots, which carried three archers each, followed by solo horsemen armed with axes; a formation known from strategy planning with her former second in command. Öldür was among them, she knew it.

The line of eored fiercely charged towards the line of golden chariots, many falling once in range of the arrows being shot from their riders. Following a clash of horse upon riderless horse, they were met by archers at close range, followed by the axes of equally experienced horseman. Paired by Eomer, Vezely and the horse lord worked together to empty a chariot of its three riders, before moving to the horsemen beyond, engaging in fierce combat upon saddle. The clang of axe upon steel sung in the air around them.

Suddenly Eomer's horse was hit by an arrow from a distant charioteer; the horse bucked below him before collapsing, causing him to fall off his steed and hit the ground hard below. In such a situation, to fall from one's horse would easily spell death from disadvantaged position. As he attempted to gain his bearings and rise to his feet, the same chariot was on a straight course towards him, the rider's axe in hand prepared to decapitate the horse lord before her.

"Eomer!" Vez gritted her teeth, kicking Gizik into high gear, causing her to race towards him. She swiftly maneuvered Gizik to the side of chariot's horses, preparing to deflect the rider's axe with her sword's steel, only to have him turn the axe on her horse. The blade hit the black steed's neck, instantly cutting her throat, stopping her legs in mid-gallop, and sending Vez over the horse's head to the ground before her. She rolled to alleviate the shock of impact, but her head still clanged against the inner steel of her helmet. While her vision momentarily blurred, a clear realization that such a dirty tactic was none other than her former second in command's entered her mind. She removed her helmet, dropping it to the ground below her, while her eyes momentarily glanced upon her trusted, four-legged companion in a bloodied lifeless mass nearby. Eomer had found his sword before being set upon by countless Variags, who had also gone horseless. Their former enemy, the berserker who took out both their horses, had rode off to inflict more damage to Rohan's riders. Vezely's angered desire to go after him would have to wait, for before her stood enough men to satisfy steel with blood.

Eomer and her worked together, taking the men around them out until a short reprieve allowed Vez to retrieve her saddle bag from Gizik, her mind disallowing any retreat into mourning for her lost friend. She was instead focused on the battle and the revenge she hoped it would quench. Sheathing her blood soaked sword, she made her way to an abandoned chariot, not too politely pulling an axe from the chest of a fallen Rohirrim along the way. She cut the two attached horses from the cart, jumping upon one barebacked; the axe still in her hand.

"I'm going after our horse killer," she declared after galloping near Eomer, eyes forward, her voice dark and determined. He was also preparing to jump upon another abandoned horse, hoping to regroup with more of his men.

He nodded before she quickly rode off; internally acknowledging that she saved his life back there, though he forewent any accolades.

She scanned the battlefield before her for the berserker, along the way releasing another of her blasting powder spheres onto the deck of an unsuspecting chariot. The axe she had found proved useful in loping the heads off of Orcs and horseless Variags as she rode through the skirmish.

Vezely spotted the chariot; its rider, who wore a mask of black iron, was continuing his trade of cutting down men and horses. He spotted her eyes upon him from a distance and turned his chariot her way. Taking a chance upon his approach, she leapt down from the back of her steed and threw her axe sideways from a lunging position, providing it a low enough trajectory to ascend upon the chariot itself; its turning blade swiftly finding the vehicle's wheel, and splicing spoke from tire. The cart instantly flipped to the side, causing the two horses to crash upon each other and for the rider to tumble to the ground outside the cart. She arose from her lunge, unsheathing her sword with a look of evil amusement on her face, for she gave him the same treatment as he obliged her earlier.

Now horseless, Vezely was quickly ascended upon by nearby Variags, necessitating a swift reversal of her prior intentions. She desired their quick deaths in order to return to the berserker, who had regained his composure and was walking towards her, with a bloody axe in one hand and another attached to his back. Removing his helmet revealed his true identity - Öldür - Vezely's second in command, the one who betrayed her, and aided in her imprisonment in Dol Guldur. He appeared older than she remembered, and the prolonged life gifted from Sauron provided a reddish caste to his eyes and paling of his skin, making him appear slightly inhuman. He began laughing maniacally as he came closer to her, easily dispatching a few Rohirrim who attempted to engage him along the way.

Her eyes were fixed on his while she slit the throat of a Variag, pushing the man's life drained body from her own in one swift motion. "As usual, letting others fight me in your stead," she remarked darkly in their common tongue, finding it odd to use after many months of speaking in Westron and Elvish.

Öldür knew she referred to when he had their army ascend upon her, bloodying her badly before taking her to Dol Guldur. "You would make challenge?" He asked amused, his lips curling up on one side.

"I would have your life," she replied, pointing the blood stained tip of her sword towards him.

"And not my army?" he queried, one eyebrow raised, he then spat in disdain, "You have turned from such desires, dressed in Elvish armor, fighting alongside your former enemies."

Vezely's eyes narrowed, "But I yet fight," she replied, not amused by his attempt to rile her; getting back to business she declared, "I make the challenge."

Nodding with feigned propriety, he added confidently, "Then let us truly honor the old ways." Right after discarding his bloody axe aside for the unused one on his back, he detached his outer shell of chest armor, letting it drop to the ground, for it was improper to wear protection in such a challenge.

Undeterred by what was possibly an attempt to gain advantage, she also detached her armor, removing her jacket along with it. "And in the end, you will be another mark upon my arm," she added with equally feigned respect.

He smirked before lunging at her, swinging his clean axe in close proximity, causing her to swoop backward, before retaliating with her sword. Another pass and sidestep, and Vez purposefully played with her sword work to slice his ear off.

Öldür touched the side of his head, finding blood dripping onto his hand. With a smirk across her face, Vez bowed her head slightly, "I would call us even, but we're not there yet," she remarked sarcastically, happy to return the favor he once bestowed upon her.

The offense, however, made him snap, for he suddenly felt toyed with, as he used to feel in her presence. He came at her with full force, his axe swinging madly. Vez deterred each swing with her sword, only to have one swift thrust cut through her blade's steel, severing through the script engraved on its midsection, and causing her and her blade's tip to fall on the ground below.

She quickly rolled to the side, missing Öldür's axe that barreled towards her, while pulling her sai from her boots just in time to catch his next attempt. Her blades were crossed over her chest, pushing against the strength of his axe now bearing down on her as she lay on the dead grasses below. His force took her by surprise, and as his blade drew closer her wrists began to ache from the bonds of captivity that once held her. The sharp edge slowly broke the skin below her collar bone. She felt the sting of cold metal sinking into her flesh and the release of warm, red liquid flow from her. So easily she could let his axe slip, she thought, ending her life right there. But a voice sung in her head, "Not your own," she heard Legolas tell her, "Not your own," it rung again. Focusing her strength allowed her to quickly push up her crossed blades, momentarily allowing a safe enough distance from his axe for her to kick him in his groin, providing a reprieve to slide from under him. She swiped her one sai to cut the back of his leg, sending him to the ground on his knees. Yet before she could finish him, another Variag interfered, releasing his axe towards her. She turned to deflect it, using the hilt of her sai and then retaliating by throwing one sai into the man's chest.

During this time, Öldür returned to his feet, now finding his opponent with one less weapon and presumably caught off-guard from his soldier's attack. Standing behind her, he swung his axe at her neck, but in one swift motion she ducked and plunged her short blade into his stomach, slicing it upward and out, instantly sending the man to his knees, as his hands clutched his abdomen in attempt to contain his inners from falling out. She walked around him confidently, knowing she just provided an incredibly painful and fatal blow. Sheathing her sai back into her boot's holder, she found her broken blade on the ground, taking it by the handle while silently reading the blood stained script still left on this end of its blade, "Fear defeat in life;" she smirked amused at her soon to be won victory.

His eyes wavered on hers while blood dripped from the corner of his mouth; he knew he was finished. She looked at him emotionless before using her broken blade to slice his throat, sending his body into a heap in front of her. And as the blood drained from his body, she spoke her final words to him, "Now we are even."

At this time, she realized a clouded mass of formless men and horses were ascending throughout the fields around her, attacking all those who stood against Rohan. She looked far afield and saw the ghosts taking down the remaining mûmakil and their forms filtering into the gates of Minas Tirith. She assumed her three companions had succeeded in bringing the armies Elrond spoke of.

She discarded her broken blade to the ground, and instead picked up Öldür's axe, finding it a prized trophy to her kill; a custom of Easterlings to take from their dead what suited them. Her own blood stained its tip while the rest stood perfectly clean, making her wonder why he chose this instrument over the other axe he had been using.

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, and after swiping two fingers on the clean edge she found them coated in a clear substance. She slowly brought her fingers to her nose, instantly recognizing the smell, though faint it was. "Poison," the word escaped her lips, stalling her breath momentarily before her eyes scanned the fields around her, for she was perfectly conscious of its implications.


	20. Unwelcome Tidings

With Öldür's tainted axe still in her hand, Vezely's eyes scanned the fields which had fallen silent around her. Picking up the Variag's discarded weaponry from the ground, as well as pulling arrows from the bodies of dead Rohirrim, she checked to see if her suspicion of all of them being laced with poison was correct.

It was called _Castis_ , a poison she knew well, for when she was a general and her second in command was Öldür, she devised using it in war to further decimate enemies even after the battle was fought. Its name in the West was "Mercy Sleep," for its common medicinal purpose was to ease the passing of those fatally injured, allowing them to drift off into a peaceful slumber before assisting in shutting down their vital organs. Yet the darker purpose, and one Vezely counted on, was psychological - to have men return from war with mere scratches only to fall into a deep sleep followed by inexplicable death. It would easily strike fear into enemies, especially if they held certain superstitions. She had used it in some minor assaults, having her men allow the other side reprieve in order for them to return home to their doomed fate. Afterwards, she would announce their deaths as punishment wrought by the Dark Lord for their disobedience; attributing Sauron a power he didn't have.

Fortunately, the effectiveness of the poison waned with each use of a soaked blade; the first slice into flesh providing the rush of poison needed to assault the victim and the closer to the heart, the quicker its effect. Upon discovering that all the Variag's blades and arrows were laced with it, she knew she needed to quickly inform the healers to prepare its antidote. There was one, and if applied prior to sleep taking hold, it would dissolve its effects; thus time was of the essence. Vezely ignored the now noticeable sting of the cut Öldür's axe put into her chest as she marched forward towards her companions, spotting them in council with the dead armies who stood before the gate of the towering White City. She watched as the ghostly forms disappeared, trying to keep her legs still moving below her despite a sudden heaviness taking hold.

Legolas turned to see her far afield, appearing alive, though bathed in blood, and walking with an axe in one hand. He presumed she was successful in her endeavor against her former second in command, for she mentioned in council with King Theodon that the Variags were axe wielders. Her eyes could see his smile, and he decided to move towards her, as she kept pace towards him. Yet the heaviness in her chest was spreading to her hands and feet. The axe slowly slipped from her grip, and she stumbled in mid step; her feet could no longer feel the ground beneath them. She tumbled on her knees and elbows causing Legolas's face to go blank and his heart to stop.

As he raced towards her side, he found her attempting to pick herself back up. "I am not done," she yelled at herself angrily through gritted teeth, the minimal strength in her hands grasping at the dead grasses in a determined attempt to stand. But the ground felt as if it was pulling her like a magnet - the poison was taking over. "I can still fight...I have not done enough," she spat pathetically during her failed attempts. The fear that she would not be allowed to continue her path to redemption overtook her thoughts.

Legolas fell on his knees beside her, turning her towards him, his one arm bracing her back. His eyes searched in confusion as to her injuries. He brought his other hand near the cut in her chest, wondering whether it went deeper than it appeared or if there was another injury unseen.

"Poison," she answered his voiceless query along with a release of breath, "It is Castis, Mercy Death, the Variags' weapons are soaked in it." Her eyes wandered from his as she scoffed angrily, "He used my evil against me;" a second heavy breath turned her anger into a look of dejection.

"Stay with me," Legolas replied hastily, not understanding her last words as he held onto emotional strength amidst his fear; trying to turn her focus back to him.

Her eyes wavered, she needed to fight the urge to sleep in order to try and save others lives, "There is still time for the others. For men with scratches or wounds farther from the heart, before they slumber. There is an antidote known in Rhun, of Florexian mixed with oil of Veron root..."

Gandalf, along with Aragorn and Gimli had also approached the area. Upon hearing this, Gandalf immediately commanded a man of Gondor to ride quickly and inform the House of Healing to prepare the antidote.

"...There is no time for me," her eyes grew sorrowful.

He shook his head, telling her strongly, "You will wake, you will heal," he would not believe this could defeat her; he wanted to trust that the Valar would protect her, that they would disallow the poison to take her life.

"If I do not," she rejoined quietly to him in Elvish, though weak she lifted her hand towards his face but found it covered in blood; stopping her from touching him. Her dark past consumed her thoughts, causing her eyes to fill with water, "It is as it should be for what I have done."

He took her wavering hand in his own and pressed it against his heart, telling her sternly, "You are not beyond redemption, nor unworthy of my love. Please believe this," his eyes reflected hers as tears also started to form.

Her lips formed a small smile and a single tear escaped from the corner of her eye, "All I know is I have lived more in my short time with you than all my centuries before."

He pulled her body closer to his own, kissing her foreword and speaking to her softly words of love and encouragement, "Do not give up on this life, Vezely, you are not done," for he knew she had thought her future hopeless in the weight of her past.

"Nor are you," she spoke determined even if just a whisper, fearful that he would despair, "Keep. Fighting."

As she slowly drifted to sleep, she heard him speak words of prayer to the Valar to protect and heal her. With his eyes yet clouded over, he picked up the once proud warrior in his arms, her head resting on his chest; cradling her as one would a child. With trepidation, he looked at Gandalf for words of wisdom, but unfortunately they did not come with comfort, "I cannot promise that she'll wake from this slumber. Elves are more resilient, but Sauron yet has a hold on her ability to heal herself;" a subtle explanation for the scars that remained on her wrists and the fact that her ear tip had not reformed itself.

Gimli and Aragorn displayed their condolences silently as Legolas carried Vezely passed them, each bowing their heads in respect for their companion and the uncertain fate of the warrior he held. Borrowing a disbanded horse near the gate, he would take her to the sixth circle, to the Houses of Healing - Minas Tirith's infirmary which was already filled with the wounded, as many more were being carted in.

An old healer met him at the door immediately, her tired eyes trying to assess where the one he held should be placed. Due the enormity of the tasks set ahead of them, the healers were trying to be as methodical as possible when placing the wounded - figuring out who they could save and who they could not.

"She is poisoned," Legolas explained, "By what is called Mercy Death."

The old woman's eyes showed what was now a pressing concern, having been informed just prior of this development, "I see. Come," she began walking, speaking as he followed her, "I am not aware of its effect on your kind, but if she is asleep, for us mortals there is nothing we can do. The antidote can be applied to her wound but it will only prolong the inevitable."

"I would appreciate that being done," Legolas spoke determined behind her, "To give her more time to possibly heal."

The healer stopped and looked upon the Elf's face; she could see in his eyes a great amount of dread. She nodded curtly, saying assuredly, "We will do so, you can place her here," leading him to an empty cot in a row of badly wounded men; most appeared as if they may never rise from them again. Legolas gently placed Vezely onto the cot, hating the thought and feeling of separating her from his arms. He gently adjusted her arms and legs, hoping to make her comfortable though he knew she was not conscious of her physical surroundings.

Before leaving, the old healer looked inquisitively upon the woman he so lovingly handled. She appeared young, and if not for being an Elf she would assume she had not yet past three decades of life. But more so she was peculiar; wearing man's trousers and a leather corset, with short hair and eyes lined in black. Like the men dying around her, she was covered in blood, but the majority of it was not her own. Stranger still were the black marking drawn on her arms and shoulders. In all her years of aiding Gondor's wounded, she had never come across such a sight in one of her cots. Returning her gaze to him, she spoke with unease on the added predicament some soldiers found themselves in, "What sort of _monster_ would use such a poison on a battlefield is beyond comprehension. I will return soon with the antidote."

Her words caused Legolas to uncomfortably swallow what spit he had in his mouth as he looked upon the peaceful face of the one he loved. _Monster_ , the word echoed in his head; her last words of it being her evil returned to him. He took her blood stained hand in his own, speaking to her softly in Elvish. "That is not you, Vezely. You are not defined by your past. Let your future define you."

The old healer returned and addressed her wound, as Legolas helped cleanse her hands and face of some of the blood that stained them. He knew there was little more he could do for her right now as she slept with the uncertainty of ever waking. He unclasped the leaf broach from his collar and removed his Elven cloak from his shoulders, placing the warm grey fabric on top of her as a protective blanket. He desired to idle by her side, watch over her as she slept, but knew he should help attend the wounded as they arrived, to lend any support he could. And thus he painfully left her side, returning periodically to check her breathing and temperature, fearing each time that he would find them changed.

Eowyn would be brought in shortly after, much to the surprise of all who knew her, for none had expected the white lady of Edoras to be lying on the battlefield. Especially not her brother Eomer, who found her unconscious nearby his uncle who had died, crushed under the weight of his horse. Physically it appeared that only her arm was badly broken, but the greater concern was the discovery that she had contracted the Black Shadow of the Nazgul, which, not unlike the poison Vezely's body was currently battling, also caused its victims to fall into a dark sleep they could never return from. Merry, discovered much later by Pippin in his unwavering search for his friend, was also brought in under a similar predicament. The two had brought down the king of the Nazgul, with Eowyn fulfilling the prophecy told by the Elf Lord, Glorfindel, that while no man could kill him, a woman could.

Finding herself overwhelmed with ailments, a skilled healer by the name of Ioreth, wished aloud for a king, stating that "The hand of the king are the hands of a healer." Attuned to this saying, Gandalf persuaded Aragorn to also tend the wounded. He would revive Faramir, Eowyn, and Merry with the use of _athelas_ , a plant with healing powers that increased when applied by the hands of a king. Yet there was little Aragorn could do against the man-made poison already set upon destroying Vezely and many others who battled the Variags. Fortunately, the antidote was easily produced and quickly applied to all with suspicions of being cut with a Variag blade or hit by a Variag arrow; Eomer included.

The new king of Rohan had a small reprieve from his nearly broken heart when his sister was revived from her dark slumber by Aragorn, though he would mourn the death of his uncle and of his many men that fell. While Eowyn was being moved to her own room to recover, he would pass the line of cots of men who were either victims of the poison or of wounds too great to heal, finding Vezely amongst them. He stopped before her feet, staring sternly at her calm face while internally processing some truisms in his mind: he knew she aided his sister's objective of fighting in this war, which nearly took her life; while at the same time, she saved his own life on the battlefield. The former he would not easily forgive but for the latter. Legolas, who had been checking in on her throughout the day, came and stood aside him, querying the man's thoughts.

Keeping his eyes foreword, Eomer spoke steadily, "She saved my life and lost her horse in the act," these words were difficult to voice, for he had not seen eye-to-eye with the woman in the near past. Legolas had not known whether Gizik had fallen on the battlefield, though assumed as much when Vezely showed up without her. Turning to Legolas, who Eomer now knew the woman truly held meaning to, he spoke sincerely, "I hope she rises again so I can thank her for such assistance." He then briefly placed a hand on the Elf's shoulder, giving him a small nod of condolence before leaving to tend Rohan's wounded; desiring to lend them morale in their time of pain.

Legolas knelt beside her, checking her temperature and gauging her breathing as he did each time he checked on her, finding it had remained steady since she first fell asleep. It gave him minor hope that she might pull through and fight off the poison attacking her inside. He would continue this routine during the night and early into the morning, as he assisted Aragorn with healing others. Each time he would find more cots around her emptied, as more and more men had found death and were moved to another location.

That morning Gimli would stop by; saddened to see the once spirited Easterling-Elf appear lifeless before him, and even more so to see his Elf friend in grief. He found him seated by her side with his eyes closed while clasping her hand aside his cheek.

"Come lad," Gimli encouraged carefully, for they had been called by Aragorn to council on their next move against Sauron's forces. Legolas did not shift his position immediately, nor open his eyes. Hoping to add some levity to the situation, Gimli added, "She would scold you for lingering too long as such."

A small smile lit Legolas's face, knowing what Gimli said was true of her character. "That she would," he replied, kissing the back of her hand before placing it back down by her side and tucking it under his Elven cloak.

...Standing with arms crossed aside Eomer, Legolas felt slightly removed from the discussion as he felt detached during the night while attending the wounded. Emotionally, his heart was on the verge of breaking - the added uncertainties of the war here and in his homeland, and now of Vezely's fate, did much to dampen his once steadfast resolve. Yet he tried his best to remain present, contemplating as others the worth of Aragorn's suggestion to divert Sauron's attention. The revelation that Frodo and Sam had made it passed the gates of Mordor offered some hope, for the destruction of the One Ring was truly the only way to rid Middle Earth of Shadow. All knew forging an attack on the Black Gates of Mordor was a suicide mission; for the remaining forces of both Gondor and Rohan, even if they could gather those with minor wounds, were not enough to defeat over ten thousands Orcs that were said to be stationed within. Diversion-produced time would be their only weapon.

The majority of the afternoon was spent discussing the assault and assessing their numbers, thus Legolas would not return to check on Vezely until later in the afternoon. But he would return to the row of forsaken cots to find her not among them. His heart dropped, fearing the worst had happened.

"She was moved," the old healer who had assisted him the day prior spoke as she walked briskly towards him, "To the upper level, by request of Lady Eowyn." She was taking some clean linens to another room and thus stopped only briefly before him, saying encouragingly, "If may be of comfort to know, she has outlasted others who fell to similar malady."

Legolas did not know whether it meant she would recover, or if her body simply slowed down the poison's effect; if he should hope that she would awake while he was away fighting at the Black Gates or fear she would slip while he was gone. All ran through his mind as he ascended the stairs. The warden directed him to a small room, where he would find that her body had been bathed and clothes replaced with a cream charmeuse gown. No longer was she in an uncomfortable cot; instead, she rested in a four post bed, with fresh white linens and her head upon an equally soft pillow. Without blood and dirt covering her, she appeared as if she was simply napping away an afternoon. Legolas's mind wandered to thoughts of finding her such in a future life together. Of going to sit by her side and watching her eyes open to his, or laying next to her and also napping the day away. He closed his eyes as such thoughts momentarily brought his troubled mind comfort before regretfully reopening them to reality. He went to check on her temperature, finding it colder than before and her breathing slower. His Elven cloak was draped on the back of a chair nearby, and he again placed it upon her, underneath the two layers of bed linens she laid under; hoping it would again provide her warmth and protection. It was then that he noticed she was missing her rings, including the one that held special meaning to her - the leadership ring of her clan. He left to find out where they had placed them, asking a healer who happened to walk by with heightened concern. The young woman, a bit surprised by the Elf's abruptness and not knowing the answer, quickly scurried off to find out.

"Apologies," an older woman came to him a few minutes later with a small purple velvet pouch in her hand, with the young healer he verbally assaulted trailing behind her. "We removed them to have them washed of the blood and dirt they held, along with the jewelry lining her ears. Her clothes were not salvageable and her weapons are in another room, for there is no need for them in a place of healing."

Legolas nodded politely while accepting the pouch the woman provided him, "Gratitude for the kindness you have provided her."

The older woman then looked upon him questionably, "Are you her next of kin?"

He did not expect this question, "We are not related by blood."

"Apologies, she is your wife," she replied quickly, sorry for her mistake.

"She is not," he replied with some sadness while looking upon Vezely, mired with thoughts of such plans never coming to fruition, adding, "Though I would make her so."

The old woman realized the Elf's manner of sorrow was truly one of the heart, thus she tread carefully with her words and spoke softly, "We have heard soldiers are being gathered to leave for Mordor by tomorrow's dawn and presumably you will leave with them. Thus we must ask, if she is to pass while you are away, what are the proper burial procedures for your kind?"

Legolas closed his eyes momentarily, for to be asked such a question held a heavy burden as he realized he had not known Vezely well enough to have spoken to her about desired treatment after death. He only knew that Easterlings cremated their bodies and that perhaps she would want the same. Thus, he requested it be done, but for her ashes to be given to him upon his hopeful return. Although he did not voice his reason to the healers, internally he thought he would take her remains home with him, and bury them by the Forest River amongst his other fallen kin.

As the old woman and the young healer left, gratified to have received this necessary information, Legolas sat unsettled by Vezely's side, hoping he had not done her a great disservice by posing such delicate plans; despite the fact he knew quite well she held to no superstitions in these matters and often showed disdain for those that did. He touched her forehead again to feel her temperature, finding it slightly warmer than before he replaced the Elven cloak upon her. Breathing in a deep breath and finding relief in its release, he turned his attention to the velvet pouch in his hand. He searched and found the ring in question, looking upon the crude, geometrically carved image of a sun on its front, before slipping it on her finger. He held her hand, speaking to her softly, "Pull from all sources of your strength, keep fighting and I will do the same."

The afternoon turned to evening, and Legolas would leave her side to join his companions for dinner, telling them she was holding on, not mentioning that his own heart was doing the same. He would also discover Aragorn with similar worries of Arwen, as the Palantir had shown him troubling images of her death; not taken lightly following Lord Elrond's mention of her fate being tied to the Ring.

"We must set our mind to task," Aragorn remarked in confidence to his Elf companion fearing his emotional resolve, "I would have you by my side in front of the Black Gates, as a brother."

Legolas put a hand on his shoulder, determined to not let his companion down, "And I will be there as one."

He would spend the night standing by Vezely's bedside, guarding over her as if he was on night watch in the Woodland guard. The open window in the room provided a view of the night sky and the stars that sat in it, and he reminisced back to their first personal conversation together, where she asked him whether the stars ever lost their light. He wondered again if such an unfathomable event could happen, thinking in regards to her own light which had diminished so much in her lifetime. As the sun began to rise, these thoughts were replaced with one heavier - that he soon needed to leave her side and march with the others on the Black Gate.

He sat by her, trailing his hand from her forehead to the side of her cheek, and mournfully finding her temperature slightly cooler. "Don't stop fighting." he whispered to her. He would say another prayer to the Valar before kissing her forehead softly, leaving the room slightly after.

Having just said farewell to her brother, Eowyn, who was still relegated to bed rest, desired to watch the armies leave from the sixth level's terrace garden. She would come across Legolas leaving Vezely's room, and despite standing only a few meters from him he did not acknowledge her at first, for internally he was steadying his emotions. She smiled kindly at him, knowing his worries as she also held them for her friend. "I will watch over her while you are gone," she told him softly, turning his attention and engaging his weary eyes.

He nodded to her, replying before turning to leave down the stairs, "It would be most appreciated."

Hoping to encourage him on what would be an unforgiving march to Mordor, Eowyn called after him, "She is strong, I do not believe she will let this defeat her," causing Legolas to stop in mid-step and acknowledge he held common belief. Eowyn admitted again to feeling somewhat useless being left behind. Despite her injuries she still desired to fight alongside the others. Passing by Vezely's door, she wondered if her female companion in arms still stood, would she have helped persuade her brother and Aragorn to let her fight again? She didn't doubt it. With dampened spirits, Eowyn would stand on the terrace and wait for the line of soldiers to depart from the gates far below; the chill of the morning air did nothing but worsen her mood.

After Legolas regrouped with the others, he reminded himself that he was also strong, charged as a warrior at home and in the fellowship. Leaving the city upon horseback with Gimli seated behind him, Aragorn cloaked in Gondorian robes riding just in front him, Gandalf upon Shadowfax nearby, and the two hobbits perched upon the horses of others, he was prepared to face whatever end beside them. This was his oath. For the sake of the fellowship, for his people, for Middle Earth, and now for the one he loved, he would keep fighting.

* * *

Vezely found herself standing momentarily immobile in a wet landscape that looked like reflective glass, with crystal clear waters stretched on infinitely, mirroring the sunlit purple and pink clouded sky above. Where the horizon began and ended lay uncertain in her mind but for a muted, but perceptible shoreline in the south. Her boots were submerged up to the ankles; the warmth of the waters just became perceptible. A second later the water beneath her flowed forward and rushed backwards as she realized she yet drew breath; she began breathing along with the tide.

She remained dressed in her battle clothes though sans the sai she knew she once held on the sides of her boots. Her hands remained stained in the blood of men and Orcs, prompting her to kneel down and try to cleanse them in the warm water below, but somehow she could not get them parsed of color.

Once before she found herself here, when she was the edge of death nearly five centuries ago; after falling in an ambush against the Woodland guard in Northern Mirkwood. The realization that poison on Öldür's axe brought her back, stirred anger in her heart. Again her past deeds had resurfaced, and presumably caused more deaths on the Fields of Pelennor, while she fell to her own evil schemes. "Ironic justice," she scoffed sardonically in Easterling to herself, though along with her anger, she feared never returning and never seeing the one she loved.

Her eyes roamed her surroundings again, and while doing so she noticed its utter silence; even the water's movement against the shore did not make a sound. Such quiet reminded her of her time in the deserts of Rhun, but even then the sand would produce sound as the wind carried it along.

The movement of the water rushing forward below her, prompted her to start walking towards the shoreline; the features of which were muted from her eyesight. She shuffled her boots through the wet sands as the tide continued to rush back and forth. But when she reached within a few meters of the shoreline, she stopped, fearful of what going ashore could mean. She was not ready to leave her life behind, not when she had found her path. But the shore still remained unfocused before her, and she wondered whether a slightly closer view would dissolve this filter from her eyes. Yet when attempting to take one more step, her boots felt stuck in the sands below her. So she closed her eyes, adding darkness to the silence in order to make it less unsettling.


	21. An Elvish Existence

Vezely could not gather how much time had passed since she awoke in this silent, mirror-like landscape. Her feet were still firmly planted in wet sands just meters from a blurred shoreline. The quiet continued to unnerve her, for it left her to her own troubling thoughts. She assumed she was on the edge of life, in a state of limbo; in doubt whether she would recover from the poison Öldür's axe infected her with. It was only from her past experience that she suspected what state she was in; for she awoke in a similar landscape when she was healing from her wounds under the care of King Thranduil. Yet for all she knew she could have perished and now awaited some other peril. Though these thoughts over her condition were overrun with torment at the grief she might be causing Legolas. With the ongoing war, knowing that Sauron's armies were not yet defeated or the One Ring destroyed, and with his homeland under attack, the last burden he needed was her unstable condition or death. She had this fear and apprehension the first moment she considered opening her heart to him; a fear of bringing pain to the one who loved her. She hoped for his resolve; that he would keep fighting. She needed to believe he would go on without her. She needed to believe he would not despair if she were to die and find herself barred from entering the Undying Lands; barred from ever being his arms again.

As she turned her gaze towards the horizon, a blinding flash illuminated the sky and the water perfectly mirrored its reflection below. It traveled like a wave of air that brought back to life the sound the landscape had long been without. Suddenly Vezely could hear the waves crashing on the shoreline and the sound of wind rustling the foliage on the land beyond. Looking towards the shore again, she witnessed two tall figures emerge, though they remained muted against the backdrop.

"Who are you?" she asked firmly in Westron, pretending not to be alarmed by their appearance, though inside she was uneasy; engagement with others never occurred the last time she found herself in this landscape.

No answer came, however, and she again tried to walk closer to them, suddenly finding herself able to do so. But she feared going on land, wondering what it could mean for the life she still desired to go back to. "I will not go ashore," she called out defiantly, deciding to stay where she stopped.

"That is amongst the choices you must make," the man said to her in Elvish.

"Who are you?" she inquired back in the same tongue. Her eyes narrowed and focus came to the figures before her. She found a tall elf cloaked in champagne colored robes, with long hair the color of her own and a female elf of similar stature, cloaked in robes of a lighter shade; her hair the color of chestnut and freckles bridging her nose and cheeks.

Suddenly, as if the previous flash in the sky resounded through her mind, she realized she looked upon the faces of her blood parents. Memories crept back from the darkened voids, flooding her with thoughts of their home under the trees in Northern Mirkwood forest, of her mother's soft voice singing to her aside the Forest River, of sitting on her father's knee as he told her stories of their kin. All comforting memories she could suddenly walk through; reliving the warmth of six years of an Elvish childhood bathed in the love of one's true parents. But the joy also came with bitter recollection of witnessing their deaths at the hands of Orcs - the sound of her mother screaming after the fall of her father, only to be silenced shortly after when she was carried away in the unforgiving arms of their murderers.

With this memory, water welled in her eyes as she looked upon the two now blurred by her emotions. "I remember," she murmured quietly beside herself. As she attempted to refocus, she grew uncertain how to engage in conversation with them, for they were yet estranged figures in her past, and far removed from her life in Rhun and the person she became.

"Our child," her mother cried to her kindly, "Taken from our arms too soon. We are so sorry we could not protect you from your fate."

"My fate?" She replied wearily, in the midst of still trying to reorient her memories, "I do not blame you for my fate; or others for the path I took before returning me to these unwelcomed shores," then asking somewhat unsure, "I am assuming you know of what became of me."

"We know," her mother stated calmly with eyes full of care and concern.

"We also know you blame yourself," her father added astutely.

"Am I to blame Sauron?" she queried skeptically but with concern, "For your deaths, yes, but for me, he only provided a gateway to the violence I readily dealt. My hands are yet stained by deeds that should not be forgiven," she held up her hands towards them, still red from the battle she fought.

"You have started on a path of redemption, but one you have yet to finish. You know this," he told her steadily, adding solemnly, "That is why you are not permitted to wander these shores freely."

She took a deep breath, for this was the information she most feared, to be barred from the Undying Lands because her sins were too great. "It is as I assumed," she replied keeping her composure, though not able to look them in the eyes.

"Yet another choice remains, one only provided to the Half-Elven, as you are my blood, of the line Beren and Luthien. The gift of man provides you direct passage into the lands of those who raised you, where you would not be ashamed of your past..." this choice caused Vezely to remember her Balchoth parents, whose love was just as true as the blood parents who stood before her. She longed to see them again, for they understood her drive and emotions. Her culture was their culture. As a brutal warrior who had fought and killed many, she would honored amongst them, respected.

"Or," he continued, turning her attention back to him, for the time allotted to speak to her was limited, "You can be counted amongst the Eldar and return to the path set upon. Though whether these shores will welcome you in the future remains uncertain. You will not be given this choice again, so choose wisely."

Vezely searched her father's face; his true concern was deeply moving. She looked downward momentarily, noting the choice before her was not as difficult as she assumed it would be, though it would leave her future still doubtful. A deep breath later, she spoke with hope while searching the compassion in her parent's eyes, "I desire to continue on my path, for I must try to redeem myself so that one day I am not ashamed to stand amongst my kin."

They smiled endearingly at her, both internally grateful they would someday have the opportunity to be reunited with their lost daughter. Her father said to her encouragingly, "We will meet again then," for he acknowledged she held determination in this task.

She returned their smiles, "I hope so," she replied sincerely grateful for the memories she know held and the second chance soon to be given.

Before all went dark, her mother told her softly, "Hope can always be found in your heart, _your heart will call you home and there you will stay and weep no more for Autumn's end_ ," recalling the last verse she was missing from the Forest River song; the verse Legolas shared with her at Edoras.

* * *

Vezely's eyes slowly opened to a high white stone ceiling above, in a room lit with sunlight from an open window. The brightness caused her to blink a few times before her eyes adjusted. She breathed in slightly cool air, noticing the dampness that often lingers from mid-morning's transition to noon. Despite lying atop an overstuffed mattress and being covered in thick blankets, a comfort which she was not accustomed to, her body ached and her hands and feet felt numb. She closed her hands into a fist and then released and outstretched her fingers, repeating this over and over again in order to get her blood to flow back into them. She then brought her hand to her chest, finding linen wrapped around it, and that stitches had been given to the cut the axe inflicted. It was then that she realized on top of her was Legolas's grey Elven cloak, gifted to him and other members of the fellowship prior to leaving Lothlorien. She gathered the top of it in her hands and brought it towards her face, gently pressing it aside her cheek, feeling its softness before breathing in its scent, for though faint, his yet lingered. She closed her eyes, realizing that her second chance at life, to redeem the light she lost, had truly begun; but the one she most wanted to see was nowhere to be found.

Her ears then heard the sounds of footsteps pattering against tile and stone and an older woman in a grey headscarf entered her room, surprised to be met with her patient's open eyes.

"You are awake," she stated surprised.

"Water," was all Vezely could manage to reply from her dry throat, the request quickly met with a filled cup and a helping hand to get her to sit upright.

"We were not hopeful for your recovery," the woman spoke to her as she drank, "For you continued to grow cold and your breathing troubled until yesterday, when Mordor fell."

Vezely stopped mid-drink, her eyes widened, "Mordor has fallen?"

"We witnessed the destruction of Mount Doom, the clearing of the red skies over Mordor. We are assured Lord Aragorn was victorious, though they have yet to return."

"They marched on the Black Gates?" Vezely remarked concerned, her eyes wandering in thought on the insanity of such a strategy, considering their numbers.

"Vez?" a familiar voice called from the doorway; Eowyn rushed in and came to Vezely's bedside, sitting next to her and taking her one hand after the old healer took the cup from it, leaving the two to their reunion.

"You survived? I am so thankful," Vezely replied, incredibly relieved to see her female friend in arms appearing in good health and spirits. "You must tell me everything."

And so Eowyn told her of the battle and its aftermath, those who fell, her uncle amongst them, and those who went on to attack Mordor and their presumed victory; the details of such yet unknown to all in Minas Tirith, as they awaited the hopeful return of their new king.

"...He did not leave your side," Eowyn remarked endearingly, noting that Vezely had not unclenched his cloak from her other hand.

Vezely smiled slightly embarrassed at this information, before the guilt of causing him such ill-timed grief overtook her demeanor. "And now I fear he may not return to it."

"We can only hope all will return unscathed," Eowyn told her encouragingly, squeezing her hand to add reassurance.

"And of your battle scars?" Vezely asked, noting Eowyn's arm was wrapped in linen.

As Eowyn told her the tale of the foul beast and fight against the witch-king of Angmar, Vezely's heart stirred in pride for her friend, who she knew had an important role to play in this war. "You are as Vezena for your people," Vez told her endearingly, referring to the story of her namesake, the great woman warrior of Rhun, "May young girls find courage in the story of the shield maiden who took down an enemy no man could kill..."

The old healer returned with a bowl of porridge on a tray, "Apologies Lady Eowyn," she said coming to the other side of the bed, "But Lady Vez should try to eat and then continue to rest, for she has been without nourishment for a week."

Vez smirked slightly at being referred to as _Lady Vez_ , but refrained from making a characteristic comment. Eowyn looked upon her friend grateful again for her renewed life before acquiescing to the healer's request, saying optimistically, "We will speak again soon."

In the next few days, Vezely would slowly build up her strength, enough to leave the confines of her room; the walls of which felt as if they were bearing down on her like the dungeons of Dol Guldur. She went to wander the terrace gardens in the afternoon, finding the sun inviting and open scenery refreshing. Eowyn was kind enough to assist in negotiations with the healers to allow her to wear an alternative garment to the cream chartreuse gown she was sleeping in, since her clothes had been discarded both by them and herself on the battlefield when she removed her tunic and Elvish armor prior to fighting Öldür. They provided her a simple draped gown consisting of three muted shades of grey, common of Gondorian women's style. Although warm and soft, the excess length in its fabric especially in its long bell sleeves, made her less than content. Though when requesting men's breeches and a tunic, they were less willing to budge on their dress code and she would have to wait until released from the infirmary to find suitable clothes for her non-conventional lifestyle. The thought of riding in such an outfit with the sleeves alone, confounded her.

The terrace's ledge provided her an unobstructed view of the remnants of Mount Doom, their fires smoldering from a mountain top that appeared to have caved in on itself. She could no longer see the Tower of Barad-dûr near its peak or feel the unnerving presence of the Eye of the one who she used to serve. Somehow seeing it in ruins, even from afar, made Sauron's defeat tangible. She regretted not being there at the Black Gate to witness such a profound moment in Middle Earth's history; in her own history. Moving slightly closer to the edge, she peered downward at the fields below, noting the slight knot in her stomach at she did. Instead of thinking of the battle just fought there, a new found memory from her Elvish childhood entered her mind, startling her slightly.

"Long have the fires of Mordor been on my horizon," a gentlemanly voice suddenly came beside her, breaking her from these thoughts, "Such a sight today is one that will take time to get accustomed to." Faramir was also in the gardens that afternoon, hoping to soon be discharged from the infirmary as his wounds were healing well enough.

Vezely turned to see the kind-looking man, knowing nothing of his rank or relations, she replied steadily, "As it will for me, though not for a change in scenery."

"You are Lady Eowyn's friend?" he queried politely.

"That I am. And I can assume you are as well?" Vezely inquired back with an eyebrow raised.

"I hope so," he remarked frankly with a small smile, and a perceptible blush Vezely picked up on, "My name is Faramir," he bowed slightly in greeting.

Knowing of Gondor's steward, as information on leaders is known to all who would wage war, she added, "Son of the Steward?"

"Though no longer," he replied with a hint of mourning for the passing of his father.

Unaware of this, Vezely nodded in condolence before introduction, "My name is Vez, I am of Rhun, but I was born in the Woodland Realm." She used the shortened version of her name that the men of Rohan called her.

"Eowyn has told me of you," he replied back, "As she feared the poison would take your life as it has so many others."

Discontent to hear of Eowyn's added grief and of the poison's death toll, Vezely asked, "Is it known the number of causalities the poison laid claim to?"

"Such numbers would be impossible to estimate," Faramir replied considering, and then saying gratefully, "Though if not for your quick acknowledgement of its use and mixture of antidote, undoubtedly it would have taken many more."

"I deserve no praise," Vezely added quickly at the misplaced accolades, for she could not help but feel partially responsible for the poison's use to begin with; having been the one who devised the dark strategy alongside Öldür nearly a century ago. She suspected his intentions to employ it here stemmed from their grudge; and that he purposefully saved his unused, tainted axe for her on the battlefield.

"Elves are often humble," Faramir replied, appearing to admire the trait.

Vezely scoffed imperceptibly at the first time being deemed so, noting how it was unfortunately misplaced; for it was guilt and not humility that she desired any praise to be quickly quieted. She let the comment slide though, finding her gaze taken in by the expanses around her, "Your city offers quite a view, Faramir, from both outside and inside its gates."

"That it does. I hope you are provided with others," he added courteously, and then saying with a hint of annoyance, "Preferably from outside this infirmary."

She smirked, noting his desire of leaving these grounds mirrored her own, "In due time, for I have only just been allowed this small venture from my room."

"The healers are as wardens," he spoke with levity, for the Houses of Healing were notorious for being run overly efficient, and their patients being meticulously cared for that it could feel as a prison for those on the mend within it walls. "Even I must be bid able to take my leave." Vez chuckled at his good-humored nature; he seemed to be a man of a light heart, not hardened by the events surrounding him. "Which reminds me of my appointment," he added a second later, "I must clear a final test before I am set free of bond. I am sure we will meet again, Lady Vez."

"Undoubtedly we will," she said with a smile then adding civilly, "And call me Vez, I stand no lady."

"Appearances then are most deceiving," he added with a smile before bowing slightly and walking away, exuding a courteousness of character she was yet unaccustomed to.

"Dresses," Vez mumbled to herself after he took his leave, reminding her at how ill-suited such garments were for her character; though it was also the strangeness of being titled so. It has happened on more than one occasion since coming West. In Rhun, such a title was easily acknowledged a misnomer; even when stripped of her rank as general, for one to call her lady could only have been done in jest. She simply did not exude the presence of a lady, as Eowyn did she thought. She gathered that perhaps in the West, they were simply more willing to uphold such manners; or perhaps men were simply less discerning when being chivalrous. Faramir was raised that way no doubt, she thought; her mind then shifted to Legolas, who also upheld a politeness suitable for one of his ilk.

A smile stretched across her face as she thought endearingly about the dignified points of his character: his impeccable manners, even during their previous quarrels they would shine through in his apologies; his optimism which stood in bright contrast to her own pessimistic attitude, with an ability to open her mind to grander possibilities; and his politeness in touch. Though she undoubtedly desired to move beyond innocent kiss and embrace, he seemed to uphold a respect for her body as other men would not. She noted this in their previous intimate moments, and while at first she thought perhaps it was inexperience that held him back, she realized instead his intentions were noble. He wanted to protect the sanctity of their courtship, and not mire it by quick desires of the flesh until their union was official. Vezely knew not what exactly this entailed in the West or for Elves; for in Rhun, the ritual of settling a union between a man and woman was as diverse as the landscape itself.

That this may require a ceremony reminded her of his rank as prince of Mirkwood, since it was a title easily forgotten in their travels together. She had noted that he first and foremost presented himself as an equal member of the fellowship; a warrior of great worth, but not one holding overt special status or privilege. He wore no symbols of hierarchy, nor made any assertion about his importance. Though certainly he was of importance, as King Thranduil's only son, and now as the only Elvish member of the fellowship he stood representative of all Elvendom in this great war. Even so, he remained humble; reminding her again of the misplaced words Faramir spoke of her.

She knew not how she garnered his love; for their story was one which began with hate, ongoing distrust, and unease over their cultural and character differences. They stood as opposites in so many ways, yet the attraction they had to each other was undeniable; despite both of their attempts to reject it. It suddenly seemed ages ago since they stood on the terrace of the Golden Hall, overlooking the starlit expanses of Rohan, reflecting on their life and subtly asking the other questions to gauge their feelings. That their initial curiosity turned into such a strong bond confounded her. She needed to believe he survived the march on the Black Gates; that she would be able to stand in his light again before leaving to regain her own. He was her source, her reassurance, her path to a life she desired. _He will return_ , she told herself, trying to believe it.

"Lady Vez," a young healer called to her; another instance of her thoughts being interrupted, "You have had enough sunlight today. You should rest."

Vez rolled her eyes slightly before turning towards the nurse with feigned pleasantries to comply with her request. She knew not when the armies would return to Minas Tirith, but it could not be soon enough. While she was far from fully recovered, the uncertainty of her companions fate loomed over her as dark clouds before a rain storm, and even more so when she was in her room resting. She wondered if the healers knew that Elves did not sleep, and while she attempted to clear her mind of all thoughts in order to rest, it was becoming more difficult each passing day.

* * *

The implosion of the Eye of Sauron and the earth shattering collapse of the Dark Tower of Barad-dûr, came unexpectedly, and at a moment of intense trepidation as Legolas attempted to fight his way through a mass of Orcs towards Aragorn in order to divert his death from the sword of a cave troll. During the tower's destruction, the six remaining members of the fellowship all recognized the deed that must have been completed by the two hobbits beyond the Black Gates. Their hearts stirred in pride of their companions' accomplishment, of the salvation they had brought not only to all those gathered to fight before Mordor's gates, but to all Middle Earth. And after the eagles safely rescued the two from Mount Doom's consuming flames, they would depart feeling victorious.

It will have been nearly two weeks since they left Minas Tirith for Mordor, coming full circle as they entered the city's white gates just before dawn. Its citizens would have just started waking up, but celebration of their return began with the sight of their caravan from far away. Townsfolk lined the streets for them, throwing flowers below their horse's hooves and cheering as they trotted up the paths encircling the many gates of the city. They would slowly ascend to the sixth circle, where Frodo and Sam were taken to recover in the Houses of Healing, and Aragorn, with Gandalf by his side, would enter his new home with plenty of tasks laid out before him.

Gimli would give Legolas an encouraging nod before he entered the Houses of Healing, knowing not whether he would be provided Vezely's ashes or set eyes upon her sleeping form as he left her. While he held hope she was still alive, bitter thoughts continued to enter his mind in the darkest hours of the evening. That morning, the sun had yet to rise.

The infirmary had considerably settled down from two weeks ago, though the healers were continually working throughout the night, tending to those in prolonged recovery. His feet felt like lead weights as he ascended the stairs to the sixth floor, not yet coming upon a healer he recognized to either ask or be told of Vezely's fate.

Rounding the curved staircase, the older healer who once asked him of his race's funeral procedures, passed him by; immediately recognizing the fair Elf before her. She smiled; glad to bring him good tidings of the one he desired to make his wife, "She is alive, and resting," she spoke without greeting.

His eyes momentarily searched her face gauging the truth behind her words. Noting his disbelief, the old woman added curtly, as if prompting a nervous schoolboy, "Well, go to her."

The starlight cast a blue shade upon Vezely's form as she lay on her side upon the same soft white linens he last saw her resting on. Seeing her in this shifted position made him smile for it provided subtle reassurance that she had indeed awoken from the poison's slumber. He quietly sat on her bedside, finding his Elven cloak clutched in her arms and her head resting upon its hood. He brushed some of her hair back from her forehead, bringing his hand gently to her cheek, finding her temperature right where it should be. His slight touch was enough to stir her from her rest and she turned her face up towards him. Her eyes slowly fluttered open to find his looking down upon her. Time stood still and she wondered if she was dreaming as did he.

"Legolas?" her quiet voice questioned whether it was true; and upon hearing her voice his eyes began to well over with tears.

"I am here," he replied softly, causing her to immediately reach for him, and he pulled her up from her supine position into his arms; both embracing each other and desiring never to let go. The release of fear and cold despair was replaced by love and reassuring warmth of a longing touch.

"I knew not whether you would return," she told him, now sitting up in front of him. She pulled back from his arms to look upon his illuminated features. A few tears had escaped her eyes and ran down the sides of her cheeks; he wiped the droplets away with his finger tips, noting the water in his own eyes had also met similar fate.

"And I knew not whether you would," he replied softly, the worry he held for weeks now finally being released.

Her concern for the grief she caused was apparent on her face, and she looked down while saying regretfully, "I am so sorry about that."

An adoring smile stretched across his face because she offered an apology for something she did not have control over, "There is nothing to forgive." His hands were still cupping her face as the sun rose and light streamed into her room. He then looked upon her as if with new eyes, for he could see in her a light she had only a faint spark of before; the light of the Eldar now shined through her face, as it did his other kin. His finger tips gently trailed to her ears, and he found the one which was missing its tip renewed. This realization prompted him to take her hands in his, lifting them before gently folding back the fabric of her sleeves to see her wrists sans the scars they once held.

After he brought his eyes back to hers, she could see he knew of this change, prompting her to reply with a small smile, "I have chosen the _complications_ of an Elvish existence;" words which hid a painful reality.

 _Complications,_ she had said she felt an Elvish life was "complicated" before admitting to her feelings for him at Edoras. But he did not know these complications still went beyond mere apprehension of a changed lifestyle amongst their kin. "Of immediate concern, they need not be," he told her enouragingly. He gently guided her face towards his, lightly touching his forehead to hers and holding her eye contact, "For now we must rejoice in our time together on this earth being renewed."

Now was not the moment to speak of the necessity that she leave for Rhun once she healed. She could not ruin this moment with talk of their paths again being parted for they had just survived the great war, Sauron was destroyed, and they continued to walk on the same earth, not separated by a great sea. Time was renewed, and she would embrace him as such, for her second chance had truly begun.


	22. Necessary Conversations

Their joyous reunion was soon interrupted and quickly followed by negotiations. The healers, whose routines would not be slowed by the reunion of two young hearts, had barged in on their intimate moment for Vezely's morning check-up and to force her to eat simple porridge, for her stomach had not taken kindly to anything else. Determined to regroup with her companions outside the infirmaries walls, Vez tried to prove to them of her returned health. Legolas stood back and observed Vez's attempt, noting how strained her politeness became when they appeared unconvinced.

"...I am an Elf," she reminded them, never having willingly dealt such a card in an act of persuasion before, "We do heal faster."

"And an Elf that has only been able to keep down solid foods since yesterday," the healer added unimpressed, adding sternly, "I should not have to remind you that you were close to death before your health miraculously turned around."

Hearing of her closeness to death, and continued plight made Legolas wonder whether she should leave their care, yet he also suspected that her desire to be released from the confines of her room far outweighed worries over recovery. It was assured, as an Elf, she would recover, thus prompting him to step in, "I will watch over her..." Legolas then explained that Aragorn, with Faramir's blessing, was providing all members of the fellowship and other honored visitors such as Eowyn and Eomer, guest rooms in the adjacent villa to stay in the lead up to the coronation. Vezely would be allotted the same courtesy; adding that she would be properly looked after with assistance easily accessed if needed.

The healers, though hesitant at first, slowly found themselves won over by the Elf prince's well-stated words, as Vezely sat back and admired his courteous arguments made on her behalf.

After they left her room, Legolas slightly reprimanded her, "You are not fully healed."

"I am just tired, as if I have not rested for a fortnight," Vez explained her condition, adding sardonically, "And in dire need of a change in scenery," for her walls and wardens felt as the prison she once knew well. It was true that Vezely simply felt tired, while her aches had grown so mild that she attributed them to her muscles being immobile for too long. Even more so she desired to spend time with her companions, to hear of their good fortunes at the gates of Mordor, and their hopes for the future before she would leave for Rhun with little chance of reuniting with most of them.

Handing him his now folded Elvish cloak, she spoke appreciatively, "This has again brought me great comfort."

He smiled while accepting it from her, "I am grateful, for it pained me to not be by your side."

"But knowing you continued fighting also brought me comfort," she added, hoping he would not feel regret about leaving her.

Before departing the Houses of Healing, Vez inquired as to the whereabouts of her sai, the only weapons she had left, finding that they had unfortunately been discarded, or more likely recycled back into Gondor's armory along with all others of patients who entered there after the great battle on the field below.

Dressed in a borrowed Gondorian gown, with only a small pouch of gold jewelry in her hand, some of which she had returned to her ears and fingers, she said with slight regret, "My horse dead, my sword broken, and now my sai discarded, I am truly starting over again."

"Not completely," Legolas told her reassuringly with a soft smile, outstretching his elbow in a gentlemanly fashion towards her, which she slipped her hand into, and as she stepped beside him, her heart felt warmed by the truth in his words and her courage uplifted to face this new life.

The healers suggested they take the gated passageway on the infirmary's sixth level to the guest villa, which led them through a number of stoned bridges and verandas. Gondor's architecture was an excess of white stone piled high with pillars and large pointed archways. Glimpses of the surrounding lands would be provided at a number of places along the path, worthy enough to take one's time when walking them. As they leisurely strolled down the tiled pathways side by side, they realized it was a new experience doing so as a couple, causing them both to stall in conversing as they worked through their mild embarrassment and slight blushes.

"I am sorry to hear of Gizik," Legolas remarked apologetically to her, having learned of her horse's death from Eomer.

"It was a clean kill," Vez replied with slight regret, having already mourned and accepted the loss of her friend, "She did not suffer, and avenged she was."

"There is much we can share from our short time apart," Legolas added considering, wanting to know more about her choosing to live among the Eldar and desiring to speak not only of his intentions in courtship, but of his own revelation, having heard the call to leave these shores, and its future consequences.

"And there is time to share it," Vez replied with a small smile that hid her own concern of such discussion, knowing the days ahead would be without pressing concern for them. "Eowyn told me of your mad ascent on the Black Gates," her eyebrow raised as she looked at him, still in shock of such a tactic.

"A necessary diversion to bide time for our two companions within them," he replied steadily.

"And these companions, do they remain of this world?" she asked curiously though carefully, for to go into the very fires of Mount Doom and return would be an incredible feat.

"They yet walk this earth and are healing in the houses we now depart," Legolas replied, finding himself still relieved and proud.

"The fellowship has proven quite the iron force," Vez spoke impressed of the deeds of the group, which she had witnessed only a fraction of.

"We were but doing our part to end this war, as others," he remarked humbly, then adding encouragingly, "And as you did."

She smiled at his humility, correcting him, "A small part only, as any other warrior set to purpose."

"And you have fulfilled the one purpose you had when I first inquired as to why you fought," he remarked, thinking back to their conversation on the upper ramparts of Helm's Deep.

"Revenge," Vezely replied, knowing it was her sole motivator for wielding a sword against her former allies. "I do not deny that I remained intent on taking Öldür's life and the deed once done brought me pleasure, as it would any warrior of Rhun who defeats an enemy. But perhaps," she smirked slightly, "Someone taught me there is a greater reason to fight, that goes beyond personal vendettas."

"I wonder who that was?" he stated playfully, for even if a hidden compliment he would milk it slightly for the levity of her reaction.

She smirked, knowing he was seeking praise, and instead saying slyly, "Some Elf. I actually forgot his name."

Equally met, he thought of her reply. They looked at each other with amused, but proud smiles, stopping their steps in the middle of a bridge between buildings.

Legolas's face became more serious as he noticed her take a deep tiresome breath, for she had not exerted this much energy for two weeks. "We can rest for a moment," Legolas took her hands while facing her..

She knew she was out of breath, thus did not complain about resting. Curious as to his mention of it before, "So when is this coronation?"

"It will take place on the first of May, just short of three weeks from today, allowing enough time for preparations and for guests to arrive," he explained, thinking in particular of members of the Elven delegation as they would travel in from their various realms to support this transition into the age of Men.

"I see," she began calculating the time in her head, from her presumed recovery to the journey across Rhun; which she considered would take the better part of a month; but only if ridden swiftly on a trusted horse, which she lacked at the moment.

"Your mind takes you someplace else?" he asked curious of her internal queries.

She smiled embarrassed that it was obvious her thoughts wandered from the present, "Just considering when my strength will return," revealing only part of it.

"It will in due time," he assured her, adding "Aragorn would have all of us present;" wondering if she had desired reprieve from the event.

"Of course. It is an important event for the West, one I am lucky to witness," she replied promptly, trying to dissuade his suspicions, though it sounded like she wasn't entirely keen on such festivities.

"I take you are not one for celebration?" he smirked slightly while holding his elbow out towards her so they could continue their walk.

She laughed slightly, noting the remark was not far from the truth, yet she admitted, "I am not averse to celebrating the fall of a tyrant, or the crowning of a king who is worthy of rule. Rather..." But before she could phrase that troubling her was departing from the West, she was cut short by Gimli coming from the other end of the walkway.

"If this is not a pleasant sight!" Gimli cried when he saw his two Elvish friends strolling side-by-side in front of him. He was heading to the Houses of Healing to greet them both, having heard from Eowyn of Vez's returned health. "It does one good to look upon thee with life renewed lass."

A wide grin formed on Vez's face as she looked upon the stout Dwarf, who was sans his helmet and axe; he had washed up and even appeared to have combed his beard. "As it does me to see a friend returned unharmed from enemy's gate. I regret being out of commission during it."

"It was a close one lass, a close one," he laughed jovially, but not in jest.

"I do not doubt it. Your numbers were less than apt," she then cocked an eyebrow, "Unless you found another one of those ghost armies along the way."

"Those are in even shorter supply these days," Gimli replied with feigned seriousness.

"Hoi!" Two voices cried from behind Gimli, as the two hobbits were also on the walkway.

Vez looked upon the two with pride, "Young warriors, returned from battle victorious."

Merry and Pippin straightened their posture, "Indeed," Merry replied with his head held high.

"I have heard your hand in slaying the Witch-king of Angmar, Merry, and others deeds yet to be told. As with you Pippin, from inside these walls," who she had not seen since he left Edoras, "Is it true you jumped fire and flames to rescue the Steward's son?"

"Not a terribly large jump considering," Pippin quickly replied, though pleased hearing his deed mentioned.

Merry then added, "We were just on our way to visit you, and check on Frodo and Sam. It is good to see you awake."

"It is good to be awake," she replied; slightly disbelieving she was amongst all of them once more.

"Well, we should leave you two alone," Gimli noted cheerfully, suspecting prior he had interrupted their conversation. "Come on lads," he motioned for Merry and Pippin to continue on their way.

"Alone," Pippin said slyly, "I get it," tapping his nose.

Merry hit his friend's arm with his elbow, before smiling at both Elves and leaving.

Vez and Legolas exchanged a slightly embarrassed glance, for now it was all but obvious they were a couple; an unlikely occurrence upon their first meeting and one they hid to some extent after. Being publicly acknowledged as together, even if just to their friends, was a new experience for both of them and though they were not ashamed, they knew not how to comfortably act around others in a partnership; or perhaps they didn't know what the other deemed appropriate. There was still much they needed to learn about each other and their desires before the newness of everything would settle.

When entering the villa, they were greeted by house matrons who led them to private guest rooms that stood on opposite sides of a long hallway. They were given keys, told of the amenities, and provided quick instruction if they should need anything before being left to their own purpose.

"Go, and return to unlocked door," Vezely pleasantly told him squeezing his hand, noting his hesitation to leave her side as they stood in the middle of the hallway, but before he let it go, he lifted her hand and gently kissed the back of it.

"And you rest," he told her softly, before leaving to wash, for he was yet covered in the dust of travel.

Vezely's room was considerably more expansive if compared to the one in the infirmary, though the aesthetic did not stray far from expected of Gondor. The white stone walls and blue tiled floors held a large four post oak bed with white linens, a desk adorned with a quill, inkwell, and papers for writing, additional cushioned chairs, a small table with candles, and a large window with open shutters facing the West.

She stalled by the desk's side for a moment, brushing the blank papers around with her finger tips thinking of planning her trail back to the Sea of Rhun; considering that spring's arrival should have opened certain mountain passes. She took a deep, troubled breath, realizing her mind had shifted from worry over her companion's return from Mordor to a new fret over her imminent departure, and how to tell Legolas when he returned. She could not hold onto this information any longer, for it was unfair to do so, though she knew not how to approach the subject lightly.

The noonday sun was just overhead and peeking through the window, inviting her over to it. She gripped the outer edge of the wide windowsill, peering over the side to several stories below and noticing her once unfounded fear of heights could be reckoned with thanks to her returned memories. Over the past week she had slowly come to terms with them, sorting through the places and faces she once knew, including Elrond's, when he once visited her father in the woods of Northern Mirkwood. She had lived a quiet, peaceful existence in there for six short years, leading her to realize such a life was possible if it should ever be returned.

Despite not being a space designated for seating, Vez kicked off her slippers and jumped upon the stone ledge. She leaned her back and head against the sidewall, stretching her feet out. The sun's strength truly felt as though the weather was transitioning into spring. There was no better place to rest, she thought, as she lifted her dress's long skirt over her knees to allow her bare legs to catch its warmth. Slowing her breathing, she attempted to clear her mind of current worries and rest.

Legolas entered his guest room to find his bow and quiver set awaiting him. He smiled upon them, content to know they would be of less little use to him in the future. While a warrior at heart, he longed for a peaceful life in a forest unpolluted by Sauron's evil. The war's end had only started to be accepted in his mind and though he had yet to hear news of his homeland, he was assured his people also stood as victors. He knew answers to his questions would be provided by the ambassadors set to come from the Woodland Realm not only for extensive council meetings, but also for the coronation of King Elessar.

While primarily emblematic of Aragorn's transition into his new role, for Legolas the event would also hold significance; being a member of the fellowship had changed him internally, but also externally, for he would no longer simply be King Thranduil's son. A endearing thought suddenly entered his mind, finding he desired Vezely to stand by his side during the event. He found it strange as he pondered it further, that envisioning the near future with her and even broaching the somewhat uncomfortable subject of what was essentially a trite formality of his princely title, seemed easier than thinking beyond that. He first needed to tell her that he heard the call to leave these shores, and while strong in its pull, he also wanted to assure her that he would not be as his mother leaving his father behind; that he would wait until she was ready to also leave by his side. He did not want to deny her the opportunity to experience life amongst the trees in Mirkwood; to know of the home that bore her.

Having washed and changed out of his warrior attire into a more comfortable tunic, he returned to find Vez's door unlocked as she said he would. He forewent knocking and opened it slowly, though hesitated for it was not polite to walk in on someone unannounced; even if she was certainly more than an acquaintance. After passing through the small entryway into the main living space, he found her resting on the windowsill's ledge, sun drenching her pale legs which stood unmarked by ink as other parts of her skin he had seen. Having heard the door open, she awoke from her rest, turning her head to see him appearing unusually casual, sans his suede jerkin or braids dressing his hair. Remaining seated on the windowsill, she swung her legs inside, allowing them to dangle down. She held her hand out to him and he moved towards her. Once there he leaned onto the window's ledge next to her, though found himself somewhat blushed by the sight of her bare legs as he did. She realized this reaction, and forewent audible amusement before pushing her skirt back over her knees; she would respect his desire for their relationship's modesty a little longer.

Legolas broke his own embarrassment, wondering, "This is a precarious position to rest."

She turned her head to peer out the window, which provided a view to the expansive vista that peeked through the two buildings before them. "It is, especially for one who held a strange fear of heights my whole life," she told him, and then recalling the memories once stolen from her, "I never knew why I should feel unsettled amongst mountain cliffs or atop buildings. There was no reason for it. I had no answers why it would concern...But now, with memories renewed. It was the Orcs," she engaged him with his eyes, "The ones that took me from my blood parent's arms. They hung me over a cliff face, threatening to drop me if I did not stop crying."

"Those are not pleasant memories to have back," for he had not realized the barrier once holding such memories was now broken.

"No. But to have them," she smiled slightly, though looking at him thoughtfully she explained her lack of distress, "To know another piece of who I am, of where I came from," then saying with cheerful tears in her eyes, "I can see it, Legolas, the Forest River, running through a sun-drenched glen. The autumn leaves falling into its brook; victims of light winds from a clearing beyond." Memories of his homeland also ignited in his mind and he smiled upon her, as she added, "It is as you described."

"And soon you will meet recollection with reality," he told her optimistically, thinking forward to bringing her back to Mirkwood and sharing his homeland with her.

"That such a possibility was close to being struck from existence, that I was to be removed from your presence forever," she diverted her eyes, unsure how to phrase the choice she was given and the one that she took; how to tell him of the debt yet to be paid.

He brought a hand to her face, brushing her cheek softly, correcting her worry, "Not forever. I was prepared to follow you on the Grey Ships and find you in the Undying Lands," he said with conviction, hoping to give her knowledge of his changed direction. "Before our troubled reunion on the fields below, I heard the call."

Her mouth parted, but words followed slowly after, "You desire to leave these shores?"She looked upon him confused, remembering he was adamant about it not being his time when he first told her about the call.

Noting her reaction, he explained with care, "On the Corsair ships that bore me to this city, I heard the gulls' song calling me." He brushed her shoulder with his hand, whose skin underneath her dress bore inked markings of the same birds. "I feared it spoke of your fate, that we would not be reunited but in the Utter West. Even now, I long to continue my journey there, for my time has come as for so many of our kin," he paused, noting the worry in her eyes.

"Then, you will leave soon?" she asked unsure.

"Soon is relative for one of our kind. Now that we are no longer separated, I have a made a promise to myself, to not leave these shores until you desire to go by my side," he hoped to calm her worries.

She swallowed the spit in her mouth, before saying regretfully looking away from him, "I am unsure if I will ever be able to leave these shores," words which prompted overt confusion before she continued, "I feared telling you."

He took both her hands in his, "Fear not sharing words with trusted partner."

Turning her wary eyes back to his, which she noted were too soon taken from the cheer they once possessed. "I am not permitted to pass into the lands that now call you. I was given the choice of the Half-Elven, either to cross into the lands of the ancestors of the people who raised me, or return here, the light of the Eldar renewed, but without promise of fully crossing that great sea or ever being allowed admittance. Unless...my debt is paid and I am deemed worthy," she closed her eyes, "That is why I must leave for Rhun once I am back to strength, where there is need for my sword."

A moment later, he spoke adamantly though being noticeably torn by this information, "Then I will leave with you."

She reengaged him with her eyes, saying sternly, "Do not let your heart cloud judgment. You have obligations here, to your people, they will look to you to guide them before you must depart these shores."

He slowly shook his head, clasping her hands in front of him, reminding her, "My promise yet stands, I will not leave these shores without you."

"You should not promise that," she scolded him slightly, knowing that the call could pull couples apart, as he said his father and mother had been, "I would not have you torn."

"Will I not already be so in your absence?" he replied concerned, his eyes wavering on hers.

She breathed in, feeling upset of such pain she has caused, "As will I, but there is no other way to redemption than to aid the lands I helped tear asunder. If I can return and not feel ashamed to walk by your side..."

"You should not feel as such now," he interrupted, unhappy to hear of compared self-worth. But he also knew he needed to accept what she must do. He looked down momentarily, gathering his strength to reply, "When you return from Rhun, redeemed, I will be here."

She embraced him, and he pulled her down from the windowsill into his arms. He closed his eyes and breathed her in, noting the sweetness of her touch, as she did the same.

"We should not cry for what will only be a small amount time taken from us," he whispered consolingly in their embrace, for he knew she was young in Elf years, and yet unaware of the immensity of time that precedes them. "We should continue to rejoice for the light and time returned to you."

She pulled away from him, his words allowing for a small smile to find its way to her lips. "You are right," she realized, "It is not the end."

"It is not," he replied, "We are just beginning."


	23. Requests

**Chapter 23 - Requests**

Vez bowed her head respectfully to Aragorn as a commoner should to a king when greeting him later that afternoon in the grand citadel on the seventh level of Minas Tirith. She noted in her thoughts that the man had proven himself worthy in war and of such respect that she now allotted him with her gesture.

Yet he had not deemed such deference necessary and he greeted her as a fellow warrior and friend, walking over to her and placing her hand on her forearm, "It is good to see your health returned."

"As it is to see all companions returned safely from enemy's gate," she replied pleasantly.

Aragorn, Faramir, Eomer, and Gandalf had been in council discussing the resettling of Western territories, now that the Shadow had been rescinded. It would be a reunited kingdom, since a strong alliance between Gondor and Rohan had been forged. Rights to certain territories would be provided, such as Faramir would keep his title as Steward to the King, and be given rule as Prince over the region of Ithilien. The Steward's only surviving son and Captain of Gondor had been managing Minas Tirith in Aragorn's leave. He had taken up the office of Steward prior leaving the Houses of Healing, finding himself bombarded with issues. There was much to be managed in this transition period, the least of which was the upcoming coronation.

Looking less rugged than usual, though with his face characteristically stern and eyes narrowed upon her, Eomer approached from the side; his demeanor made Vez unsure if his intentions were amicable though she nodded respectfully to him for he also now stood a king. He extended his hand towards her, saying steadily, "You lived up to expectations."

She smirked, recalling his final request to her before the battle. Holding her head high, she grabbed his wrist and gave it a solid shake, "As did you and your eored, it was an honor to fight at your side."

He appreciated the words, adding, "Rohan shall deem you enemy no more. And for my life and that of your horse, you will be provided one from my own stock."

"That is not necessary," Vez replied quickly, shaking her head, for she could not accept such a grand gift.

"It is already decided," he dismissed her refusal; he would ride to Edoras the following day and return in a few weeks time for the coronation with her horse in tow.

"Gratitude," Vez thanked graciously, for being provided one of the king's horses in a land of horse lords could not have been a light gesture.

"And a horse will soon be of use," Gandalf also greeted her, pleased when noting her changed state, the light of the Eldar within her, before adding knowingly, "When will you leave?"

"As soon as I am of strength," she replied, smiling upon the white wizard who tended know things before all others.

"Good," Gandalf rejoined assuredly, with a small smile, "You are needed there."

"You leave?" Aragorn asked uncertain.

"I return to Rhun, where much is now unsettled," she replied resolutely, hiding her regret for having to depart from them.

Aragorn's eyes shifted to Legolas's momentarily, who stood beside her, realizing with his friend's exchanged glance that he knew of this departure and had come to terms with it.

"Vez's part in this war is not done," Gandalf then added, making a motion to leave, "Now, I will leave you to council on local matters while I check on Frodo;" which made Vez curious what they needed to council her on.

"It is a blessing then to have you within these walls a little longer," Faramir chimed as Gandalf departed, coming closer to the group; adding amused when referring to their prior lock down state in the infirmary, "And free from healer's bonds. If you are of strength, we could use your assistance."

Vezely turned toward the new Steward, wondering, "If I can be of any assistance?"

He added, "There are a number of men from Rhun who have survived the battle outside these gates and are now being held as prisoners. If you can assist us in negotiations of release, it would be most appreciated."

"For release?" she raised an eyebrow, for releasing enemies had never been her style, saying surprised, "You show them mercy?"

Respectfully gaining leave from Faramir to speak, since only at the coronation would the official change in leadership begin, Aragorn added, "We were all victims of Sauron in this war. I would have peace restored between our borders. And this could be aided by release of prisoners."

"It is optimistic to think so," Vez added truthfully. She then wondered, her eyes questioning the men before her, "I had not expected survivors."

"They were brought back to health when found on the field," Faramir added, most had sustained injuries and were knocked unconscious before the ghost armies dealt their massacre.

"I see," she smirked slightly, then explaining her reaction, "They may not be amenable to such treatment, even if you consider it mercy. Especially not the Variags, it is shameful to survive defeat."

Aragorn understood this, but added his hope for doing so, "Yet if you can persuade them that our intentions are honorable, that they will be provided escort to their lands in hopes they will rebuild a prosperous civilization, that the West is merciful to their enemies and would prefer them as allies, then perhaps, it is a start towards this optimistic future."

Vezely was unsure of this tactic, and her demeanor showed it as she looked at him skeptically for he had not the knowledge of Rhun's politics or its inhabitant's hatred of the West, or of the growing erosion of the environment many of Rhun's civilizations were having difficulty surviving on. It was not simply Sauron that made them desire the West's lands. While she undoubtedly could assist, she wondered something else first, "You have not yet held council with those of rank? If any ranked officer survived, they should speak basic Westron."

"Noted," Faramir acknowledge this, for they had all intentions to dissolve this matter without Vez's aid. "But none among them desire to reveal rank or suggest knowledge of our tongue."

"Ah," Vez smirked, finding it typical of Variag culture, but she refrained from adding explanation. They probably did not deem those that would hold council with them worthy of engagement. She then glanced at Legolas, who noted her skepticism in this task and wondered as others of her hesitancy. By just looking at him she gathered reassurance, seeing this as an opportunity to be a bridge between the two cultures; a role which Legolas knew she could embrace. Saying assuredly, "I will assist in negotiations then, but do not expect them to trust your mercy or for my involvement not to raise certain complications."

"Your abilities are not in doubt," Aragorn added encouragingly, not reading into the mention of _complications_.

She bowed her head in gratitude of the remark, hoping to brush off being hesitant just prior. Then adding, "Though I am of no strength today to prove this assumption."

"Of course," Aragorn had not intended for it to be done today. "Perhaps tomorrow morning, if you are ready?"

Having accepted to do so, Faramir spoke to Vez about desired preparations, "We can provide you what guards you need, or any other precautions."

Vezely responded confidently, "Guards are not necessary," seeming to know something they did not, "I would council them alone, though you are certainly welcome behind the gate." They all looked at her as if she was mad. "I will know who is of rank and be able to pull them into council," adding with a smirk at Aragorn, "Perhaps even get them to show some form of gratitude towards your mercy."

"It is appreciated. And now I should apologize for pulling you into this business so soon after our return," Aragorn stated sincerely.

"Not at all, it needs to be done, and," Vez added truthfully, "I am grateful I can yet be of assistance to the West."

The talk of the next day's business would be ended for more leisurely pleasantries amongst her companions, including Eowyn who would leave with Eomer the following morning for Edoras and return in a few weeks for the coronation. She immediately noted the relationship between her and Faramir, amused that the small blush she witnessed on the gentleman's face upon mention of the shield maiden in the Houses of Healing spoke to their budding courtship. It was good to see her female friend in high spirits, having her brother returned to her side unharmed and for settling on love with a good man, who was also evidently well-matched in terms of ranking. For Eowyn was a daughter of kings and Faramir, Steward's son and now prince of the region of Ithilien, stood as a proper suitor for her class.

Vez wondered of the importance of rank in the settling of such bonds in the West, her curiosity mainly centered on Legolas and what spousal expectations he held, if any. Now with their relationship public, she did wonder about others' perceptions, and with the coronation approaching and members of the Elven delegation attending, including those from the Woodland Realm, she knew not how her presence by Thranduil's son's side would be gauged. She wondered if Legolas queried the same thing about their relationship; if he had worries about its revelation to his people. He was an honorable Elf of Sindar blood, son of King Thranduil, Prince of Mirkwood, Elven representative of the fellowship, close friend and confident of King Elessar; would not entering into partnership with Sauron's former ally and once general of the Easterling Coalition cause ill repute? And despite being of a noted bloodline, she was currently deemed unfit to cross the great sea into the Undying Lands. Certainly their partnership would not be expected, but would it even be deemed improper? Yet she also doubted Legolas would tell her if he had these concerns, for he said she should not be ashamed of being with him.

* * *

The evening sun had finally settled and the two Elves strolled side-by-side to their guest rooms in the light of lit torches. They were speaking in Elvish, which Legolas continued to appreciate hearing her voice using. She had a rare accent when speaking it, and he had become fond of hearing her form new words. For Vez, Legolas's voice was even more soothing when speaking Elvish, for the language was lyrical to her and very different from Eastern tongues. She would miss hearing and using it when she was gone.

"...You are positive tomorrow poses no concern?" Legolas asked about her appointment with the prisoners, knowing she had hesitated upon first request and then desired no precautions or protection.

Vez smiled halfheartedly, "It will depend on the group itself, if there is a leader amongst them, I may have some sway." He wondered what she meant by _sway_ , before she added considering, "But they will not expect mercy or to be released to their homeland. They may even take such words as jest, but I will try my best to make them see the truth behind Aragorn's promise."

Legolas noted some optimism in her words, which helped calm his queries, and since they had come upon their rooms, it prompted them to stop their steps and conversation.

"You should rest," he told her softly.

"I should, but I am not yet of mind to," a pleasant smile stretched across her face and she took his hand by his side, tugging it slightly towards her doorway, "Come in and sit by my side a little longer."

He hesitated, for it was evening and to enter her sleeping quarters even if for conversation, seemed to hinge on improper conduct for their courtship.

She noted this hesitation, causing her to realize the request may have seemed somewhat forward and that it made him uncomfortable. "Ah, apologies," she bit her lip, then rushing her speech slightly, "I am not versed in this..." she did not know the correct phrase, "The proper etiquette. I did not mean for you to come to my bed," she added boldly, at first unashamed to point out what he may have thought, but having done so inevitably caused him to blush, and her to regret saying it. "Not that I wouldn't...I mean, I meant only to share in conversation, as I have missed such nights doing so."

He immediately felt apologetic for acting embarrassed by this exchange, for he had now caused her discomfort, "It is my fault, for appearing to think such thoughts."

She smiled at his politeness, but she knew she needed to correct him, saying assuredly, "No, I do not know how to act properly, nor do I know what to call us."

Legolas mouth opened but he was unsure how to answer. They had not given a proper title to their pairing, nor had he formally asked her as he should have for her hand in marriage. They had fallen in love so unexpectedly in a time where it was not simply their cultural differences that let proper rituals fall by the wayside. He finally spoke, "We should have a conversation."

Since she did not want to force him into her room again, Vez added, "If tonight is agreeable to you, we could go and sit on the veranda?"

Legolas agreed to this location and offered her his arm to walk, there finding a bench which sat on the stone terrace's edge; an intricate wrought iron fence gave an undeterred view to the mountains beyond. The stars were clear in the sky above and the weather was mild, making it a perfect evening to be outside. They sat next to each other, and Vez formed words to her immediate thoughts, "The fortune to yet be by your side and to have these few weeks to continue to be so, it will sustain me until we are back together."

The sweetness of her words stole Legolas's tongue, and he placed an arm around her back, encouraging her to lean into him. "Absent only in touch," Legolas rested his temple against hers, "For you will not be wrested from my heart while away."

She took his hand and intertwined her fingers with his. But when looking upon their clasped hands, it brought thoughts of attempting to wash her hands of blood during her healing sleep. She realized it metaphorically referred to the debt she had to pay. While her hands were cleansed, she was not.

Unaware that these thoughts were consuming her, Legolas turned towards her, engaging her with more serious eyes, "As you said, we have not formed official words to our future together."

"There have been more pressing concerns," Vez responded with a small smile.

"Yet, it needs to be spoken," his gaze remained serious as he spoke, "I would have you as my life partner, if you so desire to be."

The small smile stretched bigger across Vez's face, "I do. Of course I do."

Such words made Legolas relieved, even if he had no reason to doubt her intentions. "And I would make our bond official," Legolas stated, for they were both of age and free to consent to marriage, making it possible to forgo a ceremony or witness, as many lesser Elves could if desired, yet he was not a lesser Elf. "If not..." he stalled, unsure how to phrase his reasoning.

Vezely kindly finished his sentence, "If not for your position and the formalities that making such a commitment requires." As his eyes seemed to apologize to her for this, she reassured him, "It is alright, I respect your desire to uphold tradition; to deem our partnership proper in the eyes of your people;" words which changed his gaze into one that displayed relieved appreciation for understanding, but she then added concerned, "But that is the least of what worries me about the effect this will have on your reputation."

"That does not concern me," Legolas was quick to reply, for his reputation mattered little to him.

"It should. Perhaps we have not placed official words to that either," she was determined to make him consider it, "For undoubtedly expectations on who you should marry exist."

"You are of respected lineage," noting her heritage on her father's side perhaps outshined his own.

Vez smiled halfheartedly, "That is perhaps the only obstacle crossed in a sea of others more controversial. In the eyes of your people I remain _Nwalmaer_ (tormented one), an Elf barred from Valinor, once allied with Sauron, slayer of your own kin, corrupted in mind and body. I do not want to instill shame when your people will look to you during this time of restoration and transition." Legolas was unsure what she was getting at, until she added, "You do not need to announce our partnership upon coronation."

"You are asking me to deny my commitment to you?" Legolas restated her request, appearing slightly offended by it.

"To your people, yes," Vez spoke carefully, "And upon the day when I am return West, then perhaps," she stopped suddenly unsure of her words, for he looked displeased by such talk.

He shook his head, disappointed that she believed this an option, "To deny what we have would be to deny the changed state of my being," he told her, bringing his hands to her forearms, "You are no longer _Nwalmaer_ , but Vezely, descendent of the High King of the Sindar and Melian the Maia, warrior of the Easterling resistance, ally of King Elessar, friend of Rohan, and soon to be restorer of peace in the lands East of Rhovanion. I hold no shame in announcing my partnership with you."

Listening to such respected titles from a loving companion made Vezely's eyes well over slightly, and she shook her head, "I do not deserve a partner such as you."

"Nor am I deserving of your love, which is pure and true," he cupped her face lightly, noting the glistening of her eyes in the starlight, "You are untainted in my eyes." He noted her hesitancy as she spoke these words, but not letting her respond, he said sternly, "Do not question this and do not concern yourself with others' reactions. Besides," he smirked, "I am not known for following expectations."

She smiled at his heartfelt rebuke of her skepticism, "I guess you are not. Then I shall not worry." Then adding with feigned seriousness, "But there is another question I now seek answer to." He looked at her curiously. "Is it improper during our courtship, to kiss you without immediate desire of ceasing?" She had noted they had not kissed since their departure from Dunharrow weeks prior.

Legolas's answer would not come in the form of words, however. His amused smile quickly answered her lips with a kiss that left both of them breathless and dizzy. And that evening, when both went to their beds alone, the feeling just experienced did not dissipate, nor had the comfort of putting formal words to their partnership.

* * *

The second level of Minas Tirith held the guarded quarters of the enemies who were found unconscious on the battlefield and brought back to health by Gondor's skilled healers. The following morning, Vezely would ride behind Legolas on top of the horse that he and Gimli had been using since they entered the kingdom of Rohan. She jumped up behind him, slightly aggravated by the need to adjust the long skirt of her dress, which reminded her of the annoyance of having to confront these soldiers in such a garment. But she would forgo complaint this morning, however, for she had rested well and awoke that morning feeling more alive than she had in the past weeks. She knew that seeing her companions returned alive and having those necessary conversations did much to lift her spirits.

As they began their trip, she placed her hands around his waist and leaned forward to rest her chin on his shoulder, saying amused softly in his ear, "I feel quite privileged to be as Gimli, and have you as my escort."

"I am not the Dwarf's escort," feeling displeased to be called so, while the closeness of her body to his, and the feel of her breath on his ear made heat immediately rush to his cheeks.

She laughed having received the desired retort to her play. Sitting straight again, she noted as she moved her face from the side of his head that his hair smelled of flowers and felt as silk against her cheek. She was quite impressed by his hygiene, perhaps because she could only compare him to men who were typically not as well put together. She wondered if such bodily perfection was an Elven trait, and then noted her own need to be cleanlier now that the traveling and fighting had ceased. Another bath could do her well, she thought, as they left the fifth level. While she of course had more complex questions pertaining to Elvish customs, the simple everyday life questions were also perplexing and unfortunately more awkward to ask about.

It was the first time Vez saw Minas Tirith from street level, and while the battle did some minor damage near the top, as they got farther down, she witnessed the true extent of destruction. The streets had fortunately been cleared of debris, but many building fronts remained gutted and burnt. Restoration crews had started rebuilding some areas, though it would take some time before the city regained its former wholeness or glory.

"I have never seen a city built such as this, carved from the mountain itself," Vez mused on their journey.

"None stand in such high regard in Middle Earth," Legolas replied.

"Or as high," Vez scoffed sarcastically, as they only passed the fourth level, "Your kingdom is mostly underground now?" she wondered.

Surprised to be asked, Legolas explained some history, "About a millennium into the Third Age my father built an underground fortress on the north bank of the Forest River, following the example of your great great grandfather's realm in Doriath. It was not to be more than his palace and treasury vault, but it's become the living quarters of many since Shadow fell upon Mirkwood."

"My parents lived farther north," Vezely revealed, thinking through her newly restored childhood history, "I believe my father desired his anonymity, and thus refused to move into your father's halls."

"He was not the only Elf to decline relocation during those times, though more recent events have led to none dwelling outside them," he told her regretfully, "Hopefully when you return, the forest will be restored to its former glory and we can walk through it freely without fear of encroachment. There is much I wish to show you."

Vez smiled, consumed with joy at the optimistic thought of returning to where she was born. It led her to hugging him; something she could not help, nor during it could she resist taking the opportunity to again breathe in the scent of his hair.

Legolas laughed slightly at her manner, "Such words bring joy?"

"They do," she replied amused, "As do you."

Legolas took her one hand upon his waist, and kissed the back of it, as appreciation for her sweet words. Soon after they came upon the prison grounds; meeting Faramir and Aragorn at the gates.

Inside was a troop of thirty-four men, a majority of which were of Variag descent, since their legions had come to the battlefield late. Many of them had sustained injuries by being knocked from their chariots. For prisoners, they were given the utmost kindness. The prison was a large, open-air square courtyard with several inside sleeping quarters lining the sides. Only one gate allowed entrance, while guards armed with bows and arrows patrolled from a high, second-story terrace. This was where Legolas, Faramir, and Aragorn would position themselves during the negotiations, which Vez continued to demand she do alone, without guards at her side.

Upon entering the grounds, Vezely was greeted by Derufin, who was Gondor's chief translator and the negotiator who attempted to, but failed to converse with the prisoners beforehand.

"Greetings," the studious man spoke to her in proper Easterling, even placing his fist to his chest and bowing his head down as was custom.

"Greetings," Vez replied, doing the same but with her eyebrow raised in mild amusement of this man's ability to speak her familiar tongue.

He would transition his speech back into Westron, explaining to her and the others as they walked towards the courtyard's entrance gate of the difficulties and rude responses he had in the prior days, saying to her in caution, "You will want to step softly, for they have not taken kindly to my exchanges despite the benevolence that is being offered."

Vez smirked, realizing the man spoke Easterling but knew not how to deal with some of the land's most hardened warriors. Stopping to the side of the gate, she looked at him sternly, speaking as if providing much needed cultural lesson, "This is not an arena where you step softly." Then turning to her three companions, she offered a request, "I ask again that you do not interfere without my consent, even if it appears negotiations turn south."

Though finding it an odd request, Faramir noted her determination in seeing things through, "Fair enough, we will be stationed on the second level terrace. Legolas and other guards will have bows in hand if aid is deemed necessary."

Vez nodded to him, "Gratitude." She then turned towards a guard who was stationed against the wall behind them, "Guard!" she called stepping his way, "Give me your dagger," she held out her upturned palm to him. While he hesitated, even looking at Faramir for approval, she added, "The belt to," desiring both instruments. Taking it from his hand, she planted her foot on the wall next to him, lifting her skirt, and attaching it to her thigh. The guard remained stationary, but noticeably wandered his eyes over to her, surprised by where his dagger was being attached, but enjoying the view of her leg she momentarily allotted him.

"I thought protection was unnecessary," Faramir asked a bit uncomfortable, for he was not used to Vez's abruptness or unladylike manners, though Legolas and Aragorn were and seemed unfazed.

She smirked, turning back towards them, "A simple precaution," then shrugging, slightly amused by the revelation, "Sometimes there are advantages to wearing a dress."

Aragorn smirked at her strangeness, but told her in confidence, "Good luck."

Faramir also provided a nod of confidence, as did Derufin who wanted to appear present; the man would follow them to the second level terrace and translate the negotiations as they proceeded.

Legolas lingered a moment longer, displaying concern for her in his eyes, saying to her in Elvish, "My arrows will not miss if called upon."

"I know," she replied grateful, telling him with her eyes to not worry. As he started to walk away, she called to him, suddenly worried of the impression she might make, "Legolas, if this goes as planned, I may appear as one unfamiliar to your eyes."

"Do what needs to be done," he replied, though not entirely sure what she meant.

She waited a moment before the gates, allotting enough time for her companions to position themselves on the terrace above, and in the meanwhile getting a look at the men inside. Many were resting on the stone floor, or leaning against the courtyard's walls. Several had their heads wrapped in bandages, others with arms in splints; most did not look up to posing any threat. They also appeared to mostly be Variags, which for Vez was advantageous. Their culture was similar to the Balchoth, and from her years spent with their leader Öldür, she knew how they would be treated as soldiers.

As the guards opened the creaky gates, Vez found her demeanor shift as she marched in, for she was now amongst her cultural equals and she would act accordingly - the general in her had returned.


	24. Cultural Differences

Legolas pondered what Vezely meant by becoming "unfamiliar" to him as he positioned himself next to Aragorn on the second level terrace. His soon to be crowned companion gave him a small, reassuring smile. They both had little idea how the event below them would unfold, even if they had faith that Vez could handle it. Derufin, the translator, positioned himself in between them and Faramir, preparing to translate word-for-word of the Easterling's conversation below. They had a fair vantage point and several guards were positioned on the other side and at the corners for added precaution. Legolas had bow and arrow in hand as Vez entered the gates below, her eyes glancing once upon them before marching into the courtyard.

Despite wearing an ordinary Gondorian gown, and appearing as a young Elf woman of no rank, Vez's stance and walk exuded confidence and a sense of hierarchy. She inspected each man as she passed them, her eyes roaming their forms as her demeanor showed overt disdain at their shameful condition as prisoners of war. The men who bothered to look at her grew curious of her purpose, for while they had other guards enter and attempt engagement with them, none simply walked the courtyard alone in such a manner. What Vez was doing as she paced through the lot was attempting to find a man of rank who she could start a conversation with. Hierarchy mattered in the Easterling militia. Only superior officers would speak and she did not want to start talking to the wrong individual, for she would lose face if she did. There were few means to tell if a soldier held rank when stripped of their armor. What was left was the jewelry in their ears or visible tattoos, since both Variags and Haradrim marked their bodies as did the Balchoth.

She was starting to suspect no officer was amongst them until she considered a bald man who sat against a side wall, his face downturn, not appearing concerned with the current situation, though she noted his eyes had made several quick glances at her since she entered. She walked by him again. He wore distinct bolts in his ears and appeared to be tattooed heavily on his arms. Stopping in front of him, she barked orders in Easterling. "Get up," she spat angrily, kicking his side hard as she spoke, adding just after, "Captain."

Given proper title in proper tongue made his eyes immediately shift upward, finding the Elf woman standing as one would expect a general of the Easterling army, appearing superior and showing contempt for being made to wait. All eyes were now upon them, and some who were yet conscious on the battlefield that day realized this was the same warrior who their leader had engaged in combat with before he fell.

"The slayer of Öldür," one inhabitant spoke quietly nearby, making the others who sat on the ground standup and approach the area.

Their Captain, the only man of rank to survive, slowly got to his feet. He was a burly man, quite a bit larger than Vezely, with dark eyes and an unfriendly demeanor. Evoking similar confidence, he decided to size up who stood before him; this Elf woman he just heard marked as the one who defeated their leader. Narrowing his eyes upon her, he began encircling her in even and steady strides, as if a predator stalking his prey. With her head held high, Vez watched him from the corner of her eye, following him as he stepped out and back into her peripheral vision. He saw Rhunic script tattooed upon the back of her neck; the character for "courage" visible. There could be no other female Elf with Easterling script marking her body as such.

"Finally, you send someone of fucking worth to hold council," he yelled out amused in heavily accented Westron, purposefully calling up to those he knew were watching on the second level terrace.

Vez smirked at his words, for despite her imprisonment by Sauron, she yet held some respect for her past deeds in Rhun. But she did not know if acknowledgment of her identity helped or hurt the situation, it was too soon to tell.

He turned to his men, shifting back into Easterling tongue and pointing his hand towards her, asking them, "Vezely, Destroyer of Nations, is the slayer of Öldür, the Invincible?" Several men nodded, acknowledging what they saw on the field that day; detailing how he was disemboweled and then his neck sliced open by her blade. "Swear it upon your ancestors," he then demanded of them, needing absolute confirmation that their leader, the undead and undefeated Variag, was cut down by the evil Elf of equal legend before them. The men then swore to the deed they saw, putting it out of doubt.

The Captain stepped back in front of Vez, who knew exactly what he was questioning in his head, but she was unsure if he would uphold the custom of their people, for they stood not on the soil of Rhun. She then inquired, holding her strong stance before him, letting him know her expectations of the choice he needed to make, "It is now your call how council will be held, Captain."

Anger tainted his pride, for he was obviously displeased to give up his power, yet he also felt, especially due to his injuries, he would disgrace himself if he were to challenge her. Allowing his anger to dissipate, the Captain stood back from her, straightened his posture, brought his fist to his chest, and bowed his head down. He then went down on one knee. This prompted all the Variags around him to do the same thing. Vez held her head up proudly, shifting her position to fully witness the respect now allotted to her by these defeated warriors.

On the second level, in surprise, Faramir questioned the translator quietly, "What is going on?"

Aragorn and Legolas exchanged a concerned glance, as the translator offered an explanation, "They have shifted leadership to her."

Vez suspected the Captain would give up his leadership role, for the sake of custom and to avoid inevitable conflict, for she was known not to be one to mess with. Looking at their kneeling forms, she decided to add misery to their dejected position. "Pathetic. Robbed of the glorious death of a warrior on the field of battle, nursed back to health by enemy's hand, and now beholden to your leader's sworn adversary. Öldür, the Invincible," she scoffed the man's name and given title, "I made him and I destroyed him." Yet the soldiers did not seem fazed by her words; for being spoken to in such a sharp tone, regardless of content, was the norm of militia life. Yet there was one who was not pleased; a middle-aged warrior, clean cut black hair and medium build. He appeared in better condition than his fellow soldiers, with no visible bandages. He stood up from the group, holding his head high.

Vez looked over in his direction and smirked, for she had not expected things to go as smoothly as they appeared to be. She walked over to him, and allowed her eyes roam over his proud face while speaking to his superior, "Captain, who is this warrior?"

The captain stood up, "Yaban, he served as officer in Öldür's elite ranks."

"Yaban," Vez stated steadily, "You wish to speak?"

Then, as insult for taking the life of his leader, the man spit in her face. Hearing a bowstring pull back, Vez raised her hand calmly to let her companions know not to interfere.

"You show respect for your fallen leader. I can appreciate that," Vez noted calmly, undeterred by his action. "But now you will show respect to me."

"I will not bow before this Elf bitch traitor," he said angrily.

The Captain was not pleased, and he warned the man, "Stand down, Yaban. You know the consequences of your actions."

Vez put her hand out towards the Captain calmly, appreciating his warning but desiring to handle it her way. "Do not bow then," she told him in self-righteous tone. She then pivoted from him appearing to walk away, though it was simply a delay to her next action. Speaking as she turned around quickly, "Instead you will fall before me." She punched him hard in the face, sending him down to his knees. For good measure, she side punched him two more times, sending him to the ground and causing blood to run from his nose and a split gash in his forehead.

"Hold him up," she commanded two soldiers nearby, who obliged by hoisting him up by his arms. The man had fallen unconscious due to the force of her blows. "Wake him," she directed another soldier who obliged by retrieving a bucket of their drinking water and pouring it on top of his head.

"What is to be your fate?" she questioned his barely conscious form, "What is to be all of your fates?"

Shocked by her brute actions, Faramir spoke under his breath to Aragorn, "We have to stop this insanity. We cannot let her kill one of the prisoners."

Aragorn wanted to believe Vez had the situation under control, even though the line was close to being crossed, he stated staying calmly, "She knows what she is doing, give her time."

Legolas was slightly sick in his stomach, for Vez appeared far removed from the Elf he knew. His arrow was aimed to those around her, though he wondered if it was her who should be the target.

Vez squeezed Yaban's chin, tilting up his bloodied face to have him look her in the eyes, saying disdainfully, "If up to me, public executions," she then ran her hand to his neck, grasping it, choking him, "Your death as entertainment and your heads on pikes as decoration to the plain white walls of the city that now houses you as animals awaiting slaughter." The man had a sliver of fear in his eyes and she admittedly enjoyed the reaction, and to get it from a warrior in the elite ranks reminded her she still had her touch. She shifted her gaze, taking a moment to let their thoughts disturb them. Then adding with a slightly lightened tone, "But that is not your fate."

"Drop him," she commanded the two soldiers holding up Yaban, and they let go of his form and he slumped to the ground below her.

"On your feet," she then called harshly to the men a second later, and they immediately heeded her call, for they were trained to follow orders. She felt the pleasure of control immediately return to her. Speaking to them as she paced, "Instead, your shame turns you homeward. King Elessar offers you mercy and escort from these lands in the hopes you will respect a new era of peace."

She came back upon the Captain, who seemed puzzled by this, "Speak mind, Captain," she said giving him opportunity to voice thoughts.

"Variags do not know peace or accept mercy, General," the captain told her proudly.

"No, you do not, nor do any Easterlings. And you will continue to fight in order to survive, but not only by your sword," her voice then ascended to the group again, "Do not let your mighty civilization fall, not for the Dark Lord, who deceived you into believing him invincible. My people, the Balchoth," she held high her now bloodied and slightly cut up fist, making visible her gold ring, "Now stand as ash. Ash, mingled with the dust of a barren wasteland because they trusted that the Dark Lord's power could sustain them. Instead of tending our lands, we let them wither and fall into ruin for his West-seeking bloodlust. But Khand, your homeland, is yet fertile and in need of protection. For you know as well as I, it is ripe for the picking."

She turned to the few Haradrim among them, curiously watching from the sidelines, and hoping to engage them as well, stating, "And Great General Saladan would not have his remaining Harad warriors neglect similar threats on your forests."

She touched on something with them; reminding them how, drained of its armies, their lands were left undefended. And with the East's defeat, armies who did return or did not leave to fight would find abandoned valleys or forests a tempting prospect.

She continued her prodding, "You were robbed of a glorious death in battle, but do not rob yourself of a more glorious life. Regroup with other survivors, return to your families, sow the earth, expand your cities. Do not become ash for those who would use you as quickly as dispose of you. You are given the chance to make Rhun more than what it was, take it and reclaim your dignity."

The Captain who was sparked by this plea, also had reservations. He looked wearily at his men before looking back to Vezely for permission to speak, answering for all of them, "How do we know this king speaks the truth? How do we know our release is not for show; that this escort will not slit our throats once we've departed from the city?"

Vez thought this was a fair question, for she would assume similar motive if in their position. She looked among them, knowing at first the only proof she could provide was her word, before adding a change of plans, "Because your escort will be me. I return to Rhun as you, to rebuild its greatness." She knew by revealing she was also leaving, appearing to share in their dejected position, was an added measure of showing them her allegiance. For it proved, despite standing outside their prison walls, she still stood Easterling. "Tend to your wounds, regain your strength. We leave in three weeks time." She then looked to the man whose face she just ruined, "Including you, Yaban."

She counseled with the captain privately, saying assuredly, "I want a list of your soldiers' names and their ranks. I will check in regularly before we depart, to make sure you are not mistreated."

The Captain again brought his hand to his chest, bowing his head to her, "Gratitude, General."

"It is not me who shows you mercy," she told him, and then as if finally appearing to acknowledge their watchers, she looked up to the terrace at Aragorn, whose arms were crossed in thought. The Captain bowed his head to the king, which was a rare instance of gratitude.

While preparing to leave the courtyard, Vez's eyes unexpectedly fell on a man at the side of the group, attempting to not evoke suspicion by shielding his face with his head scarf; but he was one she immediately recognized by name.

She marched in his direction and in a swift motion, ripped his headscarf off, "Hello, Remi," she said grabbing his arm and yanking him to his feet, "Open the gates," she yelled, for she desired not to have this confrontation in front of the other men. "Move," she demanded the man roughly.

The remaining Variags held their stance when the Captain calmed their intrigue by holding his hand up, "They have business," knowing to allow their new leader to do as she pleased.

In the time that the gates were unlocked, Aragorn, Faramir, Legolas, and the translator had descended to the first level to witness Vezely throw the man against the side wall, while another swift motion retrieved the dagger from under her skirt. She pinned him to the hard stone with her forearm, holding the dagger against his neck.

"Remi, you two-faced bastard," she smirked slightly, for her suspicion had been proven. The man was around Eomer's age, with short, straight black hair and a slight beard having grown in since being in captivity; tall in build and roguish in demeanor. He was once a member of the Easterling Resistance; sent to Khand half a decade ago as an undercover agent to gather intelligence on the Variag armies; a task which had continually failed despite their many attempts. When correspondence stopped, they assumed he had been killed, though Vez believed otherwise. She was an acquaintance with the man prior his departure and noted a small strain of disfavor for the resistance; a disfavor she also shared at the time.

"Long time no see, Vezely. Nice dress," Remi croaked out his familiarity with her with some charm, giving a small smirk that hid the pain he just experienced, for he was yet healing from his own battle wounds; he was displeased at being roughly handled, though considerably less so by her.

"Who is this?" Faramir asked appearing calm and in charge, though noticeably disapproving of her barbaric manner.

"A former member of the resistance, and a traitor," she answered in Westron, relaying her accusations, "He gave up our position, and the names of those undercover in other locations."

Understanding what she spoke of him in Westron, Remi defended his actions in Easterling tongue, seemingly unconcerned with the knife at his throat or those now accompanying them. "Traitor? I but sought more promising prospects, as you would have if given the chance. You had no love for those you now ally with. What do you get out of this arrangement? A few broken men and a one-way trip to the wasteland you called home?"

Vez adjusted the knife against his throat, saying amused at his presumption, "Perhaps I will also get the pleasure of your death."

After Derufin attempted to translate their words, faltering slightly in speed due to the tenseness of the situation, Faramir inquired Aragorn quietly, "I know nothing about this resistance, but I cannot let her kill this man."

Gauging the situation carefully, Aragorn looked at Legolas, who was also contemplating it on several levels. The Elf's eyes had held sternly on the man Vez held, he did not like his tone or the way he looked at her, though he was also equally displeased by her actions. After a moment, Aragorn added, "These are Vez's men, it is her choice." Faramir tried to interject, but Aragorn put up his hand.

"It would be an honor to die at the hands of such a woman," Remi added in Westron right after, his tone mischievous, and appearing to hold his ground before her, for if he must die he would not grovel.

Vez's one eyebrow raised, "An honor?" She repeated in Westron, "Wrong choice of words." While it appeared she would strike, instead she flipped the dagger in her hand and jabbed him with the hilt into his side, which she noted from the blood staining his shirt, he had sustained an injury underneath. The blow made him fall before her. She pulled him up by the collar, pain marked his face. "I had no love for the resistance or the West, but even less so for Sauron and his allies. You chose betrayal for better prospects, enjoy the shame it now brings you."

"Guards, open the gate," Vez called, as she pulled Remi to his feet and pushed him through it.

Once on the other side, he regained his composure, straightened his collar, dusted off his shoulders, and bowed to her slightly, "The Evil Beauty will continue to enchant me." The nickname was one used by men who demeaned her as a seductress.

Vez retorted under her breath with a few choice words of her own, an obscene condemnation which if translated into the equivalent Westron would have truly marked her as impolite. She then overheard the translator speaking Remi's words in Westron to the group, his tone noticeably unsure what the moniker "Evil Beauty" meant, but he did not say what Vezely added after.

Walking towards him, she queried with slight disdain for the man in her eyes, "Not going to translate what I said, are you?"

Derufin swallowed, shaking his head in refusal.

She then turned to the group, lightening her tone while asking Aragorn curiously, "Did you know it was a veiled threat? That I would not kill him?"

"I assumed death would have been more merciful in this situation," Aragorn replied, as he was actively trying to figure out their culture.

Vez smirked, saying impressed, "You are perceptive," then looking back to the gate, she thought aloud, "I would continue his shame with the others."

"But you took some liberty in how you handled this situation," Aragorn stated calmly, but with concern.

"Liberty would be stating it mildly," Faramir added forthrightly, he was not pleased with the situation and wanted it to be known. "You knew they would shift leadership."

"I did not," she straightened her posture as if talking to her superiors, trying to defend herself respectfully, "For if the death I dealt to their leader went unnoticed and if a man of rank was not amongst them to then arbitrate the transfer of power, then this would not have been the case."

"Your role as negotiator was not to take control of these men," Faramir replied, his tone verged on lecturing her.

Vezely could not help but laugh slightly at being chastised; she felt she had accomplished negotiations even better than they could have hoped for; even better then she hoped for. Still drunk on power she said to Faramir overtly displeased, "Then you should not have asked for my assistance, which I mentioned could cause complications. One being, they are now my men and my responsibility," she then decided to make some demands of her own, "Thus, you will hold council with me regarding all matters which may pertain to them until they are released. After which I will escort them from your city, and your guards will stay at your gate."

"You are in no position to make those demands," Faramir replied strongly, his hand instinctively gripping the hilt of his sword.

Vez reasoned back boldly, her eyes engaging his, "But they are fair demands."

"Am I to simply trust you will not march this army of yours on our settlements as you pass our lands to your own, that you will not rape and pillage Ithilien for your own spoils?" Faramir inquired firmly, holding his ground against her forwardness.

Vez's eyes narrowed, she was angered at having such assumptions made about her intent. She was yet gripping the dagger dangerously at her side, noticeably adjusting it in her grasp.

Legolas and Aragorn intervened at this point, noting the discussion had escalated on both ends. Legolas, who was still working through what he witnessed just prior, placed a hand softly on her shoulder, while Aragorn spoke, "We have no reason to doubt Vez's intentions. My concern is whether it is wise for her to escort them alone," he stated with care, noticeably appearing as arbiter.

Legolas's touch calmed Vez slightly, as did Aragorn's words, and she released her tightening grip on the dagger, she added re-steadying her voice, "I do not expect mutiny, if that is your concern. My intent as solo escort is to share in as well as alleviate their shame as a form of solidarity."

"Then perhaps we should imprison you with them," Faramir added right after, not ready to back down on what appeared to be three against one.

Vez gritted her teeth and re-narrowed her eyes on the Steward, re-adjusting the dagger in her hand, but Legolas stepped in, "Vezely has more reason than you know to return them to Rhun and set them on a path of its renewal. If she believes they will not break from her control, then we must trust her."

Swallowing his pride, Faramir decided to momentarily lay off the topic, saying, "I will consider these requests," then adding to her in particular, he stated displeased, "If there is one thing that has been proven to me, appearances are truly deceiving." He was referring to their first conversation in the infirmary's terrace gardens when he referred to her as a "lady," saying the same phrase when she replied that she was no lady. Providing a courteous nod to Legolas and Aragorn, Faramir would then leave the group with Derufin by his side.

Aragorn hoped to break some tension, saying encouragingly, "I see how you managed legions."

Vez looked down momentarily, trying to release her anger at the Steward, before saying steadily, "Perhaps I should have given proper warning."

"Well, you accomplished what was requested of you and it is appreciated. I will discuss these matters further with Faramir, for I find your demands reasonable," he said with some optimism.

"Gratitude," Vezely replied, grateful she was not completely misunderstood.

Aragorn exchanged a consoling glance with his Elf companion before leaving them; knowing Legolas was uncomfortable by what he witnessed and would have to come to terms with it.

As he left, Vez detached the dagger's belt from her thigh, re-sheathed the blade and handed it back to the same guard she took it from. As he reached for it, she pulled it back and away from his grasp, saying dangerously, "Watch where you let your eyes roam next time," which caused his eyelids to go wide before hesitantly taking it from her.

Both Elves desired to leave the prison grounds before speaking to each other, so they walked side-by-side in silence; uncomfortable and uncertain of the other's thoughts.

"You have an army now," he said to her coldly in Elvish once they exited the entrance and made their way towards the stables.

"It is not an army," she corrected him, noting by his tone he was displeased. She turned her eyes on him as they walked, surprised when he kept his averted from her. Defending herself, she said, "I did as expected of one who assumes command."

"Of an army," he added unconvinced.

Vez breathed in deeply, and released her breath immediately after, conceding, "Yes, an army, alright. I challenged and killed their leader in battle. The Variags as the Balchoth deem that worthy to assume the position if requested. I thought it would be easier for them to concede to Aragorn's mercy if I did so."

"Then I witnessed you almost kill two men in the process," he added critically, "With no small matter of enjoyment."

Vez practically rolled her eyes before they stopped next to their horse, but when realizing this incident demoted her in his mind from the evening before, when he called her untainted, she could not help but feel dejected. She shifted her eyes away from him and said nothing, for she simply had no heart to argue with him, nor could she deny what he said about enjoyment.

Her silence made Legolas feel slightly ill for making blunt accusations. He pulled some clean cloth from the saddle bag and gently took her bloodied right hand and carefully wrapped the linen around her cut knuckles, trying to forget that she broke the skin by punching a man's face. "Forgive me," he said, his tone somewhat lightened, "I do not understand your culture." After finishing his careful wrapping with a small knotted bow of the fabric, he still could not look her in the eyes, realizing this with some concern, though he did not let go of her hand. He breathed in deeply, keeping his eyes from hers. Elves often could see through the eyes of other Elves, and understand their motives and emotions. Legolas realized today he could not do so with her and it concerned him.

Her eyes watched him as he finished wrapping, finding his sudden aversion to look up at her worrisome. She explained her position softly, "I hesitated when requested this task for I feared showing that part of my character would disallow you to look at me the same way." She brought her other hand to his chin, and gently lifted it, but his eyes were still cast downward, her voice wavered slightly in fear, "Please do not think my heart has gone astray, for I truly believe my means justify the ends. I will lead these men home with new purpose, but I had to prove I was worthy to do so."

He finally looked at her sternly, querying with his words and eyes, "And that requires you become a tyrant?"

"It is militia culture," she rejoined sharply, quickly removing her hand from his grasp, "The man who insulted me and spit in my face, Yaban, I would have killed him for similar offense in the past, but today I spared his life not because Gondor was watching, but because I would give all those men a chance to start anew. Even a man whose actions cost the lives of hundreds and put the wizards I am indebted to on the run," she did not even know if the Blue Wizards were alive, a thought that continued to worry her. She then added, "I will turn their shame into hope, as I plan to do with my own."

He looked wearily at her, for it remained hard to reconcile what appeared to him as a lust for power; and that she might have used that dagger on Faramir crossed his mind.

Upon realizing his eyes remained cold and speech stalled, caused Vez to back away from him slowly before turning around and leaving the stable's entrance; her feet taking her swiftly to the street, as her mind worked through his reaction. She wondered if it was wrong of her to enjoy being in control again, to practice her trade as a commander of fighting men, to momentarily have back the respect she lost upon being imprisoned; a respect built on blood and battle, as a Balchoth warrior. She admitted she was tired of over 60 years worth of kowtowing to others as nothing more than a common soldier and before that, her imprisonment as nothing more than a caged animal; having her fate being in other people's hands and not her own. Now she was on her own path to redemption and one she decided would take her back to Rhun. Could she not return there as a leader, and one with just cause in tow?

Legolas watched with sudden worry as she left the stables, unsure whether his reaction was warranted. Yet he held a deeper fear within him - a fear of Vezely's ability to redeem herself, whether her actions and those that follow could be overlooked as necessary means to the only end that truly mattered to him: having her by his side when they leave these shores. He saddled his horse and went after her, easily catching up and trotting alongside her steadily, though she refused to acknowledge his presence.

"I should not have doubted your intent," he said looking down at her.

"But you doubt my means," she replied, finally looking up at him perturbed, causing both of them to stop.

"I do," he stated truthfully, but with care, "But I have faith that you know what needs to be done. That your heart has not strayed from the task you have set on."

"It has not," she told her, her eyes showing appreciation for his words. Then she added sharply, crossing her arms in slight defiance, "But I cannot stray from truest nature either. Even with the light of the Eldar renewed, I am more Easterling than Elf. And obviously my manner as such offends."

"There is much we still do not understand about each other. Let us spend these few weeks learning, for I am not averse to trying to see through your eyes, if you are willing to see through mine," he inquired apologetically while offering her a hand as invitation to ride behind him.

Finding his willingness to work through their differences endearing, led Vez to slowly uncross her arms, and loosen her strict stance. For she knew he was right, they did not fully understand one another yet, despite their devotion. She took a couple of seconds before taking his hand and jumping up behind him. Once there, she realized her energy was spent. Holding onto him around the waist, she fell lightly forward onto his back and rested the side of her head on his shoulder, enjoying the scent of his hair as she did.

He turned his head to look at her, saying solidly, "I am taking you back to rest, General," adding with an eyebrow raised and querying tone, "Or should I call you, Destroyer of Nations?"

She shook her head as she laughed slightly at his jest. "I will follow your orders, but only if you continue to call me Vezely," she replied, her face forming a small smile. Their cultural differences could wait until later to be worked through.


	25. Destroyer of Nations

That afternoon Vez returned to her guest room while Legolas would go to the Houses of Healing with Gimli, Merry, and Pippin to visit with Frodo and Sam. The two once Mordor-bound hobbits, which Vezely had yet to meet, just recently awoke from their unconscious state and were slowly being nursed back to health, much to the relief of the remaining Fellowship. They had only lost one member since setting out from Rivendell several months ago, a blessing they would all continue to remind themselves of.

During the horse ride back up to the sixth level, Vezely and Legolas remained silent, leaving discussion of that morning's events decidedly set for another time. Vez was torn between being proud of her actions and feeling ashamed due to Legolas's reaction. She believed she had assumed leadership of the men relatively smoothly, proved her strength as a commander who would safely escort them from enemy hands, and even refrained from killing two men; offering mercy which had too often been given to her. But Legolas called her a "tyrant," and noted her pleasure in inducing fear and enacting violence. Yes, her brutal manner may have been un-Elflike, but it was also consistent with the role performed by leaders of such a troop of men. Variags were as the Balchoth; a warrior culture more brutal in bearing than general Easterlings. Not to mention these men were led by Öldür, a general whose style would have been more if not less terrorizing than hers. She could not have confronted them with any softer a manner for they would not deem her fit to listen to, even less so to follow.

Before entering her quarters, the house matrons noticed the stains on her dress and offered to have it laundered and a hot bath run for her. The front of the long gown was soiled with splashes of Yaban's blood, and remnants of his now dried spit undoubtedly remained on her face and hair. The latter of which was becoming something of a concern, for it had grown out since its last cut, but not in any consistent manner. A requested pair of scissors was brought to her and she decided to bring shape back to her mane. While in the West, men and women tended to wear their hair long and unruly, often tied up or back in braids, or for women, twisted and braided into elaborate buns, in the East, men and women cut their hair shorter with more precision and design. Her front fringe had grown long enough to allow her to blunt it across her brow line. The back and sides had almost grown to a few inches from her chin, and she decided to shorten the back so that the sides were slightly longer. Having had a similar haircut several hundred years ago made looking in the mirror remind her of a time when she was in control of legions; a high point in her warrior career when the upcoming twists and turns of the past century and a half were inconceivable. Much had changed since then, though she looked the same. Pushing some of her hair behind her ears made her appreciate having her ear tip renewed, for so long it stood as reminder of her defeat and the shame brought on her by those she once trusted. With the visible scars inflected by Sauron imprisonment also gone, she suddenly felt more put together, and if not for her Western clothes and lack of weaponry, she felt back in control.

Sitting at the desk, she removed some of her rings querying her need for funds. The small amount of gold could fetch some coin in trade, enough for a decent pair of boots and a much needed new wardrobe, but what she needed more than that was a sword. She inquired the house matrons about the city's markets, getting advice on where to find the items she was looking for, but when querying about the "seedier" parts of the city, places she could gamble and turn her small amount of gold into more coin, they did not give her any solid answers. Instead, they reiterated how dangerous such areas were and the need for the new king to clean them up.

Yet one of the younger maids was more willing to discuss the "Dim Quarters," as Gondorians called its district of black markets, prostitutes, and gambling rings; for she was curious of their nature as a youth bogged down in her duties and in need of escapist thoughts. "But you mustn't think of going there as I have," the young woman said suddenly embarrassed about her openness over her inquiry, "That is no place for a lady Elf such as yourself." Having gotten the information she needed, Vez would lie slightly in her response, "Of course I wouldn't go, but thank you for giving me more knowledge of this city, for academic purposes."

While not on the agenda that evening, she planned to take a trip or two there in order to raise her own money for clothing and to have a decent weapon either bought or forged before the trip. She had already lived off the good graces of many in the West, from King Theodon in Edoras to now being housed under the Steward's roof, who may not even deem her worthy of being there after this morning. Just thinking of Faramir and his accusations caused anger to rile in her; he probably took her as nothing more than a barbaric leader of a horde who would rape and pillage without purpose. She was raised an Easterling of the late Third Age. Their armies were hierarchically structured and well-disciplined, trained to engage in honorable battle against their enemies. They did not rain destruction for sport, such as the Corsairs of Umbar who proffered off of pillaging coastline residents, or mindless Orcs who slaughtered people in the night. And while her legions wiped villages off the map during their campaigns across the East, it was due to their inhabitants defiance and refusal to ally with Sauron, or their engagement in hostilities; she could argue they brought such destruction on themselves. Men in the West seemed to know little if anything about Easterling culture aside from a few products of trade that came from their lands, such as Dorwinion wine or rare spices such as cinnamon and cloves. It bothered her if they deemed them as uncivilized as Faramir obviously did, and perhaps as Legolas did.

After her bath, she returned to her quarters in a light blue silk robe, since her dress was yet to dry. The lack of a proper outfit made her forgo joining her companions for dinner, though she admitted she would have hesitated going anyways. She still did not know how to gauge Legolas's reaction to her methods, even though she expected one before accepting the request to aid in negotiations with the prisoners. Was it simply a cultural misunderstanding that she could explain away? She took to the comfort of her bed, trying to rest her mind of these thoughts along with her body; suddenly reminding herself that in the near future such luxuries as a stuffed mattress and clean cotton sheets would be far from her reality trekking through Rhun. While she despaired leaving the West, today she had grown optimistic in completing her task of redemption, even if others were less convinced of her methods.

* * *

"Easterlings are not a cordial culture, but they are steadfast in honoring trade agreements," Gimli said recalling long past relayed information on trade between dwarves and men of the East.

Aragorn and Legolas had told Gimli of the event that morning, sparking a conversation on Rhun and a realization of the paucity of knowledge all of them held on the land and its cultures.

Gimli, not seeing Vez's rough character as anything to be faulted, told them assuredly, "You shouldn't uphold her to Elvish standards laddy, she is no Elf maiden of Lothlorien."

Legolas knew it was wrong of him to compare Vez to the female elves he held in high regard, such as Lady Galadriel or Lady Arwen. Even though she now held the memories of the six years being raised in Mirkwood as a Woodland Elf, she stood culturally conditioned by hundreds of years amongst Easterlings, and not to be easily forgotten, one in charge of legions of men under Sauron. Before this morning he had not seen her take a leadership role, for she followed and accepted the orders of others. Her willingness to submit to King Theodon's will at Helm's Deep was a moment which helped reaffirm to him that she had changed and was no longer under Sauron's shadow; it proved to Legolas that Gandalf spoke the truth. But witnessing her exercise such brutality of force this morning, to seek fear as a means of power, and to show pleasure in doing it, reminded him blatantly of her past misdeeds which he admittedly knew little of. He realized he had never pushed her to discuss her past in detail, for he cared not for who she was and wanted to live with her in the present. But he could not help but wonder whether this morning, he witnessed her as she once was and that perhaps, the evil in her yet remained and could break free again.

He queried whether their argument prompted her absence at dinner, for they had remained uncomfortably silent on the horse ride up to the sixth level and parted sans affection. Though considering Faramir had joined them, it may have been for the best. While Legolas wanted to trust in Vezely's ability to escort the prisoners back to their homeland, he admitted he felt Faramir's concern was equally valid. The Steward and her confrontation was also the first time he saw Vezely exert power over those above her; and her manner, the dagger clutched at her side, only heightened his apprehension over her path. He went to her room afterwards, hesitating to knock on her door at first. He did not desire to be confrontational, but he also wanted to be honest with her about his concern so they could work through it, as he felt was necessary in a committed relationship.

The knock startled Vez from her rest, but somehow she knew it was him for the timing was right. She did not open the door all the way, but enough for her head to peer out.

He looked upon her face anew, noticing her sudden change in hairstyle, "You cut your hair," he said slightly surprised to see it angled so distinctly.

"I have," she replied, unsure whether his reaction was favorable.

"I had not thought you would," he sincerely remarked, for Elves admired long hair and he had secretly desired to see hers long, for its dark tone and straight texture would be beautiful he thought.

"Why? Because I seem unconcerned about appearance?" She questioned with slight irritation, believing now his reaction was not favorable; though she did not know it was due to his desire to see it grown to longer length.

"That is not what I meant," he now queried her annoyance, but remained unsure whether to relay to her his other thoughts.

"You do not like it," she remarked being blunt.

"I did not say that either," he replied, now confused at her accusation.

"It is obvious," she added smiling slightly in order to appear that it didn't bother her, "I have become aware that short hair is not the norm for any in the West."

"It is uncommon. I apologize if my reaction appeared negative, for it is not," he added softly, "But you do look different."

"That is often the point of cutting ones hair," she stated with one eyebrow raised, "And it was getting unnecessarily long for soon it will be continually hidden under a headscarf."

"Is that the norm in Rhun?" he asked curiously.

"In certain environments having your head covered is preferable, especially to shield oneself from the sun and harsher climates, but more than often it allows me to blend in when I need to," she explained.

"I see," he replied, noting in his mind that Vezely was slightly displaced everywhere she found herself. Then shifting queries, he asked, "You were not at dinner, and I wondered if..."

She didn't let him finish his question and instead opened the door more fully to reveal her attire, "I am not dressed for it. My gown is being laundered and I am without anything else to wear."

He was slightly relieved to hear a practical reason for her absence, "We should remedy that," he told her with a small smile.

"I have already inquired on where I can trade gold for coin," she added assuredly, "And markets to try for the items I need."

"If you can wait for my father's envoy to arrive, you will not need to trade your gold," he offered to spare some of his own coin pleasantly. He was also awaiting this envoy for his own garments, and one he could wear for the coronation.

Realizing he was offering to provide her funds, she declined, "I would prefer not to accept more charity."

"I do not offer it as such," he rejoined carefully, hoping he did not offend her, "I simply would not have you in need."

"And I appreciate the sentiment, but with this I can manage," she told him, though softening her tone.

The conversation between them momentarily stopped, finding again the awkwardness that undoubtedly lingered because of the incident that morning. Shifting gears slightly, Vez added, "I would like to spend the evening conversing with you, but seeing as I'm poorly dressed to leave my room, and you will not come inside."

"Perhaps," he politely interrupted placing his hand on the door, though uncertain whether it was a good idea, "Tonight we can make an exception." He knew they should discuss matters of concern and not let disagreements linger longer than they needed to.

Vez smiled appreciatively as she willingly opened the door to him, finding it an odd relief that he would be willing to break what seemed to her like somewhat impractical rules; but then realizing that he must feel engaging in a conversation necessary, made her slightly concerned. After adjusting the intensity of an oil lamp and lighting a few more candles, thinking more light would ease his feelings of impropriety, she led him by hand from the doorway where he had lingered observing her. The light color of her robe and newly cut hair provided a different vision of her than he was accustomed. She was also barefoot and appeared to step lightly, as if trying not to alert anyone of them breaking the rules. It was perhaps the most Elflike Legolas had seen her move. Vez noted what she deduced as hesitation as she led him to the room's reading chairs before sitting herself down in one, folding her legs up on the seat and adjusting her robe as she did.

Wondering if he needed leave to join her, she said to him with a small smile, "You can sit."

He sat in more proper fashion and with good posture. Unexpectedly he found himself looking at her admiringly, "Your eyes," he remarked after he realized, "They stand out with your hair this way."

Surprised to be suddenly told this, she queried, "I will take that as a compliment from one who no doubt prefers long hair."

He corrected her, "I do not have a preference."

She smiled at his politeness, "It is alright if you do. We all have elements that attract us to others. I happen to like the color of your hair, for it is all but uncommon in the East and reminds me of the sun."

He smiled through his slight embarrassment at her compliment, which she seemed unabashed to give. It reminded him that she was of a less reserved nature than himself when discussing matters of physical attraction. "It is not only physicality that forms the basis of attraction," he added, bravely divulging his own attraction to her, "It was your differences and un-Elflike qualities that prompted curiosity; that initially broke me from the barrier of distrust to engage in conversation."

"Differences which now cause concern," she noted with raised eyebrows, then saying softly, "I know why you would break custom and enter my bedchambers at night. We need to discuss what happened this morning," he nodded to her assertion and then she added encouragingly, "I would have you speak freely about the thoughts that ran through your head, for I desire to see through your eyes."

He looked at her wearily before replying, worried that his words on this would cause her discomfort. "I will do so, but please know my heart cannot turn from stated promise."

"Nor can mine," she added assuredly with a small smile.

Grateful for the affirmation, Legolas spoke with true care in his voice, "Through our time together, who you were under Sauron, the general, remained hidden but for brief moments of assertion. Only acknowledged through tales you relayed of your past or ones that placed your future in doubt. But today, I felt as if I may have looked upon Vezely as she once was; an Elf who I could no longer gauge the emotions that guided her actions." Vez looked down momentarily notably upset, but she reminded herself not to react negatively, and she returned her eyes to his in contemplation as he continued, "These differences did not spark my curiosity but provided me with repulsion, and fear."

"Fear?" she repeated, unsure why this was.

"Fear for your redemption," he told her steadily, his eyes engaged on hers. "Soon you will leave my presence and I will be without knowledge on your endeavor. If I cannot see through your eyes, as all Elves can do with their kin, then are you not lost to us?"

She again looked away momentarily, thinking through his words and the realization they brought to her, "I have filled you with doubt. You fear the evil in me yet draws breath."

"Then tell me it is not how it appears, teach me to see through your eyes," he stated with hopeful desire, needing to be told he was wrong.

Vezely wondered how to do so, for he was not convinced that her actions reflected militia culture as she stated that morning. Describing it as such was not enough, she thought, perhaps she needed to provide specifics. "You have often disallowed me to speak specifically of my past deeds, saying you cared not for who I was but who I am today."

"I still stand by that conviction," he stated assuredly.

She relayed her gratitude for this with a brief smile before inquiring, "Would it comfort you to know that what you witnessed this morning pales in comparison to me in the past?" His eyes showed curiosity over her angle. "Meager are the stories the West knows of me after I slayed Eorl the Young at the Battle of the Wold. Here I am nothing more than a defeated heathen driven back into the darkness from which I came. Your people perhaps remember the lives my men and I took upon our incursion into Mirkwood, your father's seemingly misplaced mercy, and the ill-conceived title _Nwalmaer_ , which seems to remove me from real blame. But to Sauron, I was one of his bringers of darkness. General of the Easterling Coalition. The Destroyer of Nations," holding her head slightly higher made her seem almost proud of these titles, adding, "You learned of this title today, perhaps I should tell you how I acquired it."

Legolas was uncertain why this would help his cause, "Do you seek to damage opinion?"

"No, I would seek to elevate it," she smiled with slight hope of her tactic, "And to substantiate that I have changed and that my methods and cause are not what they were."

Legolas looked away from her gaze to consider whether having such information would quell his worries or reversely repulse him further. "Alright," he conceded, though uncertain, "Tell me of this title."

"I spoke once of my army's victory at Ester Ridge," she replied, remembering her conversation in Edoras with Merry and Gimli over the possibility of winning a battle against terrible odds.

"Your numbers game?" he replied bluntly, having remembered her maps and his displeasure of her easy ability to reduce men's lives to statistics.

She nodded, continuing her story steadily, "Three hundred of my elite warriors defeating two-thousand Dusterns, one of the many tribes who populated the region we were marching through, as we were tasked with garnering their allegiance to Sauron. A similar number of men that Gondor now holds as prisoners from this war, surrendered to my forces, desiring mercy. I did not flinch when I sent them to their deaths. I had them crucified. Have you witnessed crucifixion?" She was unaware if he knew of the practice and after he shook his head, she explained in detail, "Not yet robbed of life, their hands and feet are nailed to wooden boards that are then lifted from the ground. It is a slow and painful death, as their bodies quiver and shake from the stress of gravity weighing down on them. That evening, after hearing every hammer-induced scream, I walked through their yet dead forms caring not for their prolonged suffering. Instead, I was considering whether their cross's position was too far from the mountain's edge for proper viewing of others in the region who might seek to defy us. I would then order my army to march on their homeland, killing all women and children that they found and then burning their villages to the ground. I stamped them out so that others in the region would fear defying Sauron's army. I dealt death to avoid more death. And I made those decisions daily, as a general is expected."

"And did you avoid more death?" he asked a moment later with slight anger in his voice coming from what he heard.

"Yes," she replied softly, noting his antipathy, "The region fell easily under our control, but the Dusterns were no more. Destroyer of Nations. Its meaning is twofold, for I simultaneously erased peoples from the map while uniting all Easterlings under a single banner. That is who I was. Despite my imprisonment and the fact that many would brand me a traitor for fighting for the resistance, my deeds still hold me in high regard to men of like kind."

Silence followed as Legolas processed the information, for she was responsible for the death of women and children, a truism she had hinted at but he never wanted to fully accept. He asked wondering how, "You were able to command men to do such things, to go against their better nature and kill women and children?"

"I would never command a soldier to do something I would not do myself," she replied bluntly, implying far fouler deeds by her own hand.

He brought his hand to his forehead as if nursing a headache that has formed, "And if they refused?" He asked, not sure if he wanted to hear the answer.

She looked at him, saying without hesitation, "I have nailed my own men to crosses."

"And placed heads on pikes," he stated, recalling her threat to the men that morning.

She nodded affirmatively, "Taken by my own sword. But I was methodical in my violence. I did not rain destruction or place fear in the hearts of men purely for pleasure, but for purpose."

"Purpose?" Part of him thought she was joking, to even provide justification for such deeds seemed far removed from one who contained the light of his people. "You cannot justify killing women and children, Vezely, you cannot."

"As a servant of the Dark Lord, charged with building a strong, fearless army, and one that would make all of Rhun fall beneath his feet, my means justified those ends and allowed me to do what I did without question," she said strongly, hoping that he could distinguish who she was today and the purpose she now held. Pain then marked her face and her eyes wavered on his as she tried to speak her current position. "I do not justify those means against the purpose I have now. And I never asked for forgiveness of them or deemed myself worthy of redemption. Perhaps now you understand why I could not easily accept your kind words for they were spoken without knowledge of what I have done. The Blue Wizards knew exactly who I was and they put it to me bluntly, that I would not pass into Valinor if I did not work towards a greater good. A cause I did not truly understand or take up until recently."

These words made him look her cold in the eyes, he asked about something else that made him curious, "Would you have betrayed the resistance if presented the opportunity?"

Vezely's face drained of all emotion, for he spoke what Remi said of her equal desire of betrayal. "You ask me this after I have fought and almost died for the West?"

"I want to understand your more recent past, and _those_ involved in it," he told her boldly.

Vez realized that perhaps he was interested in one man in particular, she hesitated, saying bluntly, "Perhaps we can discuss that another night," for she was unsure how to approach the subject.

"We are on the subject of your past now, one you invited," he noted her discomfort, but was not backing down, "What makes you hesitate?"

She looked away from him, hoping to not give leave to his suspicion, "I do not hesitate," she scoffed, "But what exactly do you want to know?"

"You have explained to me what is meant by the title, Destroyer of Nations, what is the meaning behind Evil Beauty?" He asked carefully.

"Is it the title that you are interested in, or the man that wielded it?" she asked bluntly.

"Both," he stated firmly, for he admittedly disliked her engagement with the man. There was something about his eyes on Vez that troubled him.

She wondered if her demeanor could show the uneasiness that now engulfed her, for speaking of such with newly bonded partner would truly test the resolve of their commitment. She said with dripping contempt, "The Evil Beauty, one would not have been so bold to call me this to my face for I would have had their life. It is a demeaning title, spoken by chauvinistic men who believed a woman could not possibly lead legions without bewitching those close to her. Foul rumors spoke of me as an Elvish witch who bedded her second in commands so they would follow her every whim."

Legolas found it odd that her Elvish blood would be connected to such rumors, as Elves, despite their admired beauty, were not known for using the trickery of the flesh to seduce others, making him re-acknowledge just as Vezely knew little of Elves, the men of Rhun probably knew even less.

Vezely remained uncomfortable, but added in further explanation, "Sex is power. And I am not averse to using my femininity if the situation calls for it. I have done so for the resistance if you recall, posing as an Umbarian Dancing Girl to hijack Corsairs ships," thinking he would remember the tale she told one evening in Edoras, "But if you can gauge by my other tactics, I did not need to share my bed for purposes of control."

"But did you, share your bed?" he queried the unimaginable, surprised at his sudden ability to breach such boundaries with her.

Vezely's mouth gapped open slightly appalled that he would direct the conversation this way, seeming far removed from the usual reserved politeness he usually upheld. Knowing she could not lie, she replied apprehensively, "Legolas, I was raised by men, as a warrior never to be married off."

He somehow knew she was not without experience, but the affirmation still unsettled him and he could not look her in the eyes. "Such an act is equivalent to marriage in Elvish custom," he stated fact, unsure if she was aware.

"I did not know," she replied suddenly feeling awful, trying to explain, "It never meant anything to me, for I was not..."

"And Remi?" He interrupted, not appearing interested in her attempt to explain.

"What about Remi?" she asked annoyed, wanting him to fully acknowledge what he was rudely asking.

"What is your relationship with this man?" he asked, his eyes narrowed on hers.

"He is an acquaintance who I would share drink and gamble with, as I did with many other members of the resistance. And if you must know, I never shared his bed," she stated firmly but with more anger, knowing it was a concern of his from the start, "I have not willingly done so for a very long time."

"Willingly?" he repeated, wondering why it was added.

She looked away in contempt, "I have said too much."

"It was your idea to divulge your past," he reminded her.

"It was, and obviously it did not have intended effect," she added harshly, before reasoning out loud to herself in slightly softened tone, "I suppose I should not have expected it to, for such dark tales must be sharp to your ears," she paused, further realizing how far apart their worlds were. Then reengaging his cold demeanor with her eyes, "I will tell you what I meant by 'willingly' and then leave you to your opinion. If such has changed, so be it." Legolas remained silent as she stood from her chair and walked towards the desk, placing her hand on top of it, considering how to tell someone pure of heart further of her corruption. How to break more pages from her history and then assure him she is writing the future anew. She turned toward him trying to diminish emotion from her face, for she was not ashamed, "Öldür, he had his way with me before I was taken to Dol Guldur. It was not something of surprise after he took control of my army, for he had desired it for some time and I continually denied his advances. Rape is said to strip a woman of her dignity, to forever taint her in the eyes of others. Öldür believed this. Afterwards, when he cut my ear off, he told me that I would forever be his; that no one would again look upon me as beautiful." She held her head higher, finding his act folly for she had repaid him in kind, "He was wrong. Yes, he robbed me of my power and made me wake to a world that held no meaning, but it is my actions that will forever taint me in the eyes of your people. I accept why I am not allowed to leave for the shores of Valinor beside you. And I once cared not for this fate and used the resistance as a means for revenge, a goal I achieved when taking Öldür's life. But I have changed. Coming West changed me, _you_ changed me. I want to believe my purpose is true and honorable, that I can help again unite Rhun, not under Sauron's banner, but one of peace and prosperity. For a greater good, that lies beyond my own desires."

Feeling softer emotions overtake her, she stopped her speech, looking away from his form. Legolas had fallen silent, and his eyes had remained looking blankly ahead, processing the information he had been told. It was true; he was not accustomed to hearing such base tales. All seemed far removed from his world under the leaves of Mirkwood. While Elvish history was thick in deceit, kinslayings, and treachery, none were done at the hands of those close to him. His mastery and that of his kin was in killing murderous Orcs, not innocent men. His emotions wavered from disgust, to anger, to immense sadness. He closed his eyes, trying to settle his mind, for he knew not how to respond.

Vezely grew unnerved by the silence and she left the candle lit space, heading to the open window where it was dimly illuminated by starlight. She could not bring herself to look upon the stars, for she felt they were shunning her as he was now.

Legolas could now sense her emotions of dejection, ones he then added to, "I have been naive," he spoke quietly, "To think I could see through your eyes which have looked upon worlds I know not. If I would have known..." He paused thinking back to when he first overcame his hesitation and engaged in conversation with her, freely offering her comfort and reassurance of her Elvish ancestry, of her being accepted as a child of the stars. It made him feel foolish for assuming her past was anything less despicable. If he would have known perhaps he would not have fallen in love with her. And yet, he did love her, and his heart cried to go embrace her, to tell her he believed she has changed, but he couldn't move.

Vezely pondered over what he meant. If he would have known, would he not have allowed himself to break the barrier of distrust? Would he not have grown to care for her as he did? She could not help but think of all the times she tried to tell him that she was unworthy; all the warnings she gave him about her past and uncertain future, but he would not hear it. He would not let her divulge the truth. "We were both foolish," she spoke with her back yet facing him, "For thinking our worlds could ever be reconciled."

Finally standing from his chair, he knew not whether to go to her or leave through the door. "I need some time to think this through," he finally said quietly, which prompted her to glance at him from the corner of her eye. She nodded once, accepting he would leave her, before removing her eyes from him. After exiting, Legolas stood momentarily in front of the other side of the closed door, his hand still on the knob, feeling lost; as Vez slumped to the floor in front of the window, running her fingers through her hair and clutching her head after, hating the feelings of sorrow now overtaking her.


	26. "If I Would Have Known"

As Vezely walked down to the third level of Minas Tirith, the cobbled streets felt unexpectedly soothing on the soles of her feet, for the bottom of her flats were thin, lacking the support of leather boots. The day markets, the largest of which had originally been located on the first level, had all relocated since the battle to level three's smaller specialty marketplace, due to the destruction caused by the war below. Life had continued in the White City, even if slightly rearranged. Vez had already exchanged some of her gold jewelry for coin at a small treasury on the fifth level, getting more than she expected. Depending on market prices she should have enough for some clothing items and some left over to start gambling with, which she had decided to try that evening; anything to avoid confrontation with a certain someone. She would give him "time" as desired, she thought, for she also needed it.

Earlier that morning, dawn's sun seemed to blare unrelentingly into Vezely's room, making her wish shutters or curtains blocked what once seemed like a pleasantly open and inviting window. After the evening before, she did not want to face the day. His words, i _f I would have known_ , replayed over and over in her head as she tried to rest. She wondered what he meant. If he would have known she had committed such atrocities prior to meeting her again at the edge of Fangorn, would he not have broken his wall of distrust and engaged in friendly conversation with her? Would he not have offered her words of comfort in her time of utmost confusion? Would he not have come to care for her as he said he did?

Instead of despair, she grew angry that he reacted that way. For she thought revealing she was far worse in the past would prove that today she truly stood anew; that it would lessen his worry about her actions with the prisoners, since to her those tactics were soft. Was he that surprised she had done those things as one of Sauron's commanders? She had given him proper warning of her corruption, telling him she was impure and undeserving of forgiveness and further undeserving of his love. He had declared she was no longer the Elf he laid eyes upon in Mirkwood. Perhaps, she thought, he forgot that hundreds of years stood after that time, and in his father's kingdom he encountered but mere shadow of the general she would become.

Or was he incapable of believing such crimes could be committed by one of his race? He said he could not see through her eyes. The Balchoth in her wavered on mocking the softness and inexperience of Elves. He spent his life killing Orcs, she reasoned; soulless, evil creatures unworthy of sympathy or life. Perhaps even his preference for archery spoke to a desired removal from killing; avoiding locking eyes with the life you extinguish. But amongst these thoughts, memories of her Elvish childhood would filter in, contradicting and taunting her disposition on killing. Her blood mother teaching her that all life is sacred and deserves consideration, to provide mercy to all; that life was fragile and not given lightly. Perhaps she stood too conditioned by Balchoth culture to truly hold this to heart, but acknowledging that such teachings would reflect Legolas's own understanding slightly lightened her contempt on Elvish ways of seeing the world. He is also conditioned by his beliefs and she cannot blame his reaction perhaps.

Or was it her other revelations that truly caused him consternation? She had no prior inkling of the equation of sex and marriage within Elvish custom; that if Elves simply fornicated, foregoing a ceremony, they would become forever bound never crossed her mind. To suddenly reveal her prior sexual relations with men, did it not place her further into an undesirable category for the Prince of Mirkwood? She desired to tell him it meant nothing, for she never loved those men who provided her the most momentary of pleasures. She had lived as any other man or woman in the Easterling army, where it was customary for unmarried warriors to have partners; or "lovers" as they were deemed. Soldiers' camps were segregated, but there was an integrated campsite where such rendezvous were permitted. Despite the rigor, expectations, and seriousness of warfare, warriors continued to have clandestine lives when mandatorily serving in the militia. Women would find amusement in seeing who could "conquer" the best warriors for they were often considered the best lovers. Men also found prestige in bedding women of note, and Vezely undoubtedly had admirers. But her lovers were incredibly few through the years. One reason was her rank, contributing not only to lacking the time for such revelry, but she could not show favor to lower ranked soldiers, while at the same time she desired to sidestep accusations of bedding her commanders for purposes of control. She had also grown a disinterest in playing with the hearts of men, caring not for any associated emotions, which she deemed as weak and unnecessary. The few men who got so moved to profess their love to her would find their physical engagement quickly ended, for she desired no such relationship. However, she never felt disgraceful for what was a cultural expectation; for someone marked as different by blood she was not different by culture. And while Öldür's evil act against her angered her, she would not be destroyed by it, for she had destroyed him. But standing before Legolas last night, she suddenly felt dirty and undesirable; an abomination to his people. Or even worse; not one of his people.

She would give him his "time," but she would not anguish during it, she thought, again preferring to be angry rather than hurt by his reaction.  _I am no child_ , she told herself,  _I will not cry for another._ But it was the only way she could deny that her heart was breaking inside her chest.

Before entering the bustling marketplace, Vezely adjusted her headscarf slightly, which, thanks to still having a pair of scissors, she was able to craft out of a blue silk blend throw blanket in her room. She was not concerned about blending in with men, having become even more accustomed to hiding her Elvish identity since she started working for the resistance. Donning a scarf over her hair and ears felt so natural that she had only recently gotten use to its absence. The market was large, as expected for the size the city. It was divided into sectors: fresh fruits and vegetables, meats and fish, salts and spices, house items and clothing. She moved along with the crowd through the stalls and storefronts, becoming intrigued when she came upon a storefront which sold spices from Rhun. The air was saturated with scents so familiar it brought both pleasant and difficult memories to mind. The store was quite large, with covered awnings stretching out from the facade of a three-story building, where it also appeared the owner had their residence on the second and third levels. Being sold was more than just spices; inside there was fine cloth and clothing that looked to be from lands far beyond Rhovanion.

No one was there to greet her at its entrance, unlike the other stalls who had hawkers trying to pull in customers who walked by. Undoubtedly business had been slow since the war and all sellers needed to up their sales through enticing marketing and loud revelations of sales. A moment after she stepped inside, however, a great beast of a hound raced towards her snarling and baring its teeth, its growls concurrent with a woman's shrill voice from the back of the stall crying, "Fang, no, get back here!"

Vezely narrowed her eyes and put her hand out towards the riled animal, her palm facing downward, instantly causing it to stop in his tracks, whimper slightly, and back up slowly. She then waved her palm towards her, giving it leave to not fear. It hesitated slightly before moving nearer and once there it allowed Vez to pet it behind the ears.

"Apologies!" An elderly woman appearing to be in her mid-sixties had raced from the back of the store, her hand clutching at her chest, her breathing heavy, "He had gotten loose and I feared the worst."

Vez looked at her skeptically, wondering why such a fearsome animal would be guarding a woman of her age in a city such as this. "Does he often get loose?" she asked politely, still petting the great dog whose height reached her hip.

"Oh no, we make sure Fang is tied tight when the store is open. His purpose is to protect the premises in the evening," the lady replied coming closer to her, trying to relax her breathing.

"You need such protection?" Vez asked curiously, unintentionally observing the years lining the woman's face.

"Not until recently," she said with a weary smile, taking the rope bridling the animal, which had happily seated himself next to Vez. "For as you see, we trade in specialties from Rhun, and being at war with them, it is not just our trading partners that have grown hostile. Locals don't take kindly to our wares either. We had two break-ins a few months back for the purpose of vandalism and theft, of course, for spices are not cheap these days. Since we got Fang, though, we haven't had a problem." She then noted admiringly, "He seems taken with you. I've never seen him take kindly to strangers, hence my former worry."

"I am lucky then," Vez smiled, for undoubtedly her Elvish qualities caused such affection, she then added, hoping to inquire on sales, "I have not been to the third level markets in ages and am admiring the garments in your shop."

"Ah," the woman seemed surprised, for she was internally querying why an ordinary Gondorian woman would enter a place considered somewhat exotic. She then inquired, "My garments are not usually of interest to young woman these days."

"Then why do you carry them?" Vez asked, appearing amused by the old woman's curiosity and turning her inquiry into a question for her.

"It is a long story," she responded cheerfully, "One of my family's' connection to Rhun."

"You have ancestors from there?" she asked intrigued, finding some pants and pulling them from the rack, as she did.

The old woman did not hesitate to go into story mode, telling the tale of her great grandmother who was from Rhun, though she knew not exactly where. Her and her family had been driven out of their village by the Easterling armies, forcing them to cross Rhovanion into Gondor. "...Just so happens she would marry into a merchant family, one with dealings in the Eastern spice trade. But she also desired to import other goods, mostly for herself, but for others who may have an interest in exotic fashions. I continue this tradition, though through the years with the increasing hostilities there has been little hope of sales. Desired disassociation with Rhun, I suppose."

Vez was surprised to find she had a hand in this woman's family tree, for undoubtedly it was her armies which displaced her great grandmother from her home during that time. "If all of us could have such diverse histories," she said, appearing grateful to have heard the tale. Vez unfortunately had grown overly accustomed to acting undercover that lies easily rolled off her tongue. This was her job in the resistance, to extract information from various sources, and preferably, as the Blue Wizards would consistently remind her, not by force. She then added, hoping to strike a bargain, "I too have an interest in exotic fashion and desire purchasing your garments, if a price can be agreed upon."

Taking this as a gesture of good will for her plight in sales, the old woman perked up, "I am sure we can find an agreeable price."

Vez would pull a number of garments from the rows, finding ones appropriate for the upcoming weeks of relative leisure and others appropriate for her future journey. The lady would also display some to her liking, adding information on her marketing, "...I know that these colors are not as vibrant as some that can be found in Rhun, but to help sales I chose ones more consistent with Gondorian preference."

The lack of vibrant colors was actually a relief to Vez, who thought the grays, browns, and washed out violets of Gondor suited her better. But she was also happy to find some reds amongst them, for she remained drawn to that hue. She found a long-sleeve washed out violet linen top, a pair of dark maroon balloon pants, fitted at the ankle, and a matching, though lighter hue short, peplum blazer with dark brown embroidery at the hems and cuffs. Her current plain brown flats would still work well as shoes, forgoing an immediate need to purchase leather boots.

"I have always admired the versatility of such trousers for woman," the old woman mused.

"They do allow one to mount a horse more smoothly," Vez added, though not necessarily letting on her knowledge of having worn such trousers before, as she pulled out others garments to consider as later purchases; a tunic she thought might be worthy of returning to Rhun in. "You don't happen to sell scarves?"

"That is one thing I have more than enough of," she chirped cheerfully, "They are a more popular item."

Having chosen a dark crimson one, she then asked the price, finding herself surprised at how low it was that she considered not even bargaining. Yet she found herself bargaining in two more items; charcoal for lining her eyes and Easterling Spice Tea. A small tin cost more than several of her garments combined, but she felt it could serve a higher purpose in the days to come.

"I will stop by again soon," Vez added cordially before leaving, thinking of purchasing the tunic she saw before her journey. She then pet Fang on the head; the large dog had lingered by her side as she went through the store.

"It would be a pleasure," the old woman mused, grateful to have a customer of her seemingly forgotten wares.

Considering the evening before, Vez felt incredibly relieved that her task that morning proved simpler than conceived. She decided to return to the guest house, unload her items, and linger until evening, when she could go to the Dim Quarters to gamble for more coin. Her purse still had enough weight to allow for a promising start at the tables.

But despite desiring to return to her room unnoticed, she was reprehended by one of the house maids upon entering the guest house, "Miss, I do not think you should be in here?" Vez turned to face her, surprising the woman who made the mistake due to Vez still wearing her headscarf. "Apologies Lady Vez, I did not know it was you!" Vez smiled briefly before turning to continue on her way without comment, only to be chased after, "I am very sorry if I offended you, but it is good I came upon you," the maid said trying to keep pace by her side, for Vez did not stop walking and still hoped to return to her room without any hindrance. "A letter from the Steward arrived. If you could be so kind to wait here it will only take me a moment to retrieve, for it seems urgent."

"Fine," Vez agreed perturbed for both failing her goal of reaching her room quickly and for having to soon read words from Faramir; though the maid did rush back to her side quickly, letter in hand, thus allowing Vez leave to continue to her room and read along the way. "There is also a horse waiting for you when you are ready!" The maid called to her as she was walking away, relaying some more information. Before even reading the letter, Vez assumed the afternoon would not be spent resting as desired and she begrudgingly broke the wax seal.

 _Lady Vez,_ she scoffed slightly at his addition of "lady" thinking he kept it there for bitter reminder.

_The prisoners have begun making improper demands, suddenly feeling entitled to better treatment than already being served. There has also been an altercation between a guard and a prisoner which I would consider weightier punishment for, but perhaps this is for you to decide. Your earliest assistance is requested._

_Steward_

"Vague much," she mused slightly annoyed in Easterling tongue after she finished reading, noting how he left out what entitlements and what kind of altercation. Though she admittedly was glad to be informed at all; noting at least Faramir was upholding part of her request. Upon reaching the hallway to her room's door, she suddenly became aware of the sound of her own footsteps, for she knew not if Legolas was behind his door. It was odd for her to suddenly desire to avoid him, for so long she had wanted nothing more than to be by his side. Though as she tried to step quieter, endearing thoughts of his ability to always hear her came to mind; making her realize such attempt was folly. She would dress in her new clothes, line her eyes with charcoal, and smooth down her hair before taking to the provided horse, returning to the second level prisons. At least she looked far more respectable as a leader of such men.

* * *

 _Reconciliation_ , Legolas had spent the evening thinking through its ramifications. The details he now held on Vezely's past far outweighed any possibility of it being easily succumbed to, despite his stated commitment to her. She was once farther removed from the light of his people than he had ever imagined, for her hands were stained with the blood of innocents and her flesh tainted by acts which put any true union with him already into question. If he would have known she stood so debauched, so corrupted, perhaps he would not have broken words with her that evening on their journey to Helm's Deep, or have told her she was a child of the stars as he was; for Elves do not kill women and children, or feel nothing for the suffering of others as she did when she sent those men to their deaths on Ester Ridge. But, he reminded himself, she was a servant of Sauron, who had erased all knowledge of her life under the trees, led her adopted peoples to destruction by promising them victory in a battle they could not win, and placed the power of legions in her hands to achieve his desired ends only to be imprisoned when appearing to fail to uphold his standards in wickedness. She disapproved of the title  _Nwalmaer_ , but for an Elf to commit such atrocities, she had to be tormented and seduced by evil, and that evil saturated her entire being, almost snuffing out the light of his people.

His thoughts wavered back and forth from pity, to sorrow, to anger, to love. He should not feel deceived into loving her, but yet, he could not believe his heart would have so willingly linked with one of such a dark past if he had known these details. If only he would have heeded her warnings when she called herself "corrupted," an "abomination" in Elvish eyes. No, he had fallen in love with an Elf from Rhun, one he truly believed stood on the cusp of redemption. Now, even with light renewed, he knew not whether her hands could ever be cleansed of the blood that stained them. Perhaps her denied entry into Valinor was fate deserved, for how could one who caused such pain be allowed eternal bliss.

But even thinking such unforgiving thoughts about the one he had given his heart to made tears come to his eyes. Had she not also suffered grievous injustice at the hands of her tormentor? Did she not deserve mercy and a second chance, as all living beings are deserving of such? And could he now dishonor her further and place her hard earned resolve at risk from what could spark a broken heart? Or could he simply sail away to the Undying Lands and let his love for her fade from memory?

Legolas had never done wrong in his life; he was always steadfast in heart and mind, a role model for his people, and the pride of his father. Having fought heroically in this war with the added honor of being a member of the Fellowship, he knew not why suddenly he deserved such hardships concerning matters of the heart. Did he not deserve the love he so long desired, a pure, blissful love, but forewent in his many centuries under the trees? But he told himself, he had found it, for in her arms love thrived between them, it was real and true. But would it still be there now that he held such knowledge? Could he look upon her the same way and feel as he did? Could he still hold her hand knowing the innocent blood that stained it? Or kiss her lips knowing that many men had done so before?

That morning he heard Vezely leave her room, as he remained inside his, finding slight endearment that she moved slightly rougher than most Elves, which allowed him to easily track her footfalls. A minute later he would answer a knock on his door, noticing he desired it to be her, only to find a letter being handed to him by one of the house maids. It had arrived by carrier pigeon that morning, carried from Mirkwood and penned by the hand of his father. It was his first correspondence from home since leaving for Rivendell.

_Dearest son,_

_You have honored our house and our realm with your heroic efforts. When I heard you volunteered as member of the Fellowship, pride stirred in my heart. And now that you have emerged unharmed from battle's end to stand as no other of our kin, it does much to mend the wearied heart of an already troubled father._

_Our realm has suffered greatly at the hands of Sauron's forces, for a great fire has spread throughout our beloved forest that its embers yet burn. But all rejoice in the Shadow being rescinded, for Dol Guldur is no more. A new alliance, ending a long era of distrust, has been forged between Lord Celeborn and I. Northern and Southern realms of Mirkwood, now renamed the Eryn Lasgalen (Wood of Greenleaves), have been divided and claimed. With respect to such bonds, I ask you consider further strengthening our alliance and honor our two houses by accepting the niece of Celeborn, Lady Adele, as your betrothed. For so long you have denied yourself partnership, preferring to keep a watchful eye on our forests and our kin. But now, with Shadow rescinded, such bliss need not be pushed aside. Lady Adele is of beauty and grace, of intelligence and fairness, a High-Elf Maiden well suited to your character and ancestry. Please consider this request._

_I have also exchanged by mind of Lord Elrond, information that you selflessly assisted the Easterling Elf I once aided on her fated journey through our realm; a path known that someday you would cross. But I have also heard rumor that you may hold affection for one so damaged. I am not and have never been a father who sways trusted son from own path, but I do seek to place warning in your head for darkness that could follow such unconsidered desires._

_I care only for your happiness, thus this letter has not been sent to condemn, but in preparation for the Elven Delegation's arrival in Minas Tirith, so you are not overwhelmed by unknown information or unprepared to meet said Elf Maiden, who also stands to represent her people. My envoy is traveling with proper attire for the Coronation of King Elessar and other undoubtedly missed comforts from home._

_Ada_

Legolas furled his brow in contemplation, for the initial joy of reading his beloved father's words were replaced by a heavy burden of a courting request and condemnation of his current affection; condemnation which he himself had just been dealing with. The request, however, that he could be moved to marry another for political reasons, even if his heart was unattached and he stood as before this war, was far from appreciated. He would have considered it for the sake of his father and respect to his kingdom, meeting the said Elf-Maiden for purposes of considering chemistry, but he would prefer only to marry for love. Love which he had professed to another, he again reminded himself. He knew these current complications between him and Vezely were not going to subside from mere contemplation, for their worlds were too far apart, despite their hearts being professed as one. Acknowledgement that his father did not approve of their relationship when he held hope that he would, only furthered his confusion and uncertainty of his future with her. Their relationship would not be accepted among his kin and he was foolish to think otherwise. Now his heart truly felt lost.

* * *

After entering the prison grounds, Vezely was escorted by a guard to Faramir's office, as he stood with Derufin by his side.

"So good of you to join us, Lady Vez," immediately he noted her slightly more Easterling appearance from the day before, "We seek your advice on recent matters of concern, since you so desired to provide it," he added cordially, though to Vez it sounded like he was purposefully mocking her.

She raised one eyebrow, unmoved by the mild mocking, replying, "Quit the pleasantries, Steward. Instead give voice to such matters."

Faramir realized she was not as easily riled, and then explained as she desired, "The man who was of your former resistance, this Remi, has assaulted one of our guards as they were making their rounds in the evening. He is now being held in his own cell. And as to the demands, they come from the mouth of this Captain. He desires rites to be spoken on the battlefield, to honor their fallen comrades in death. I would consider punishment for the assault, and deny the need for such rituals to be performed, seeing as we have already buried their dead with utmost respect."

"The guard," Vez asked, finding his explanations still lacking, "Is he yet of this world?"

"He was not killed, only hit across the face," Faramir responded, unsure of her interest or angle.

"And the motivation for said assault?" she then asked, for she wondered about the treatment of her men.

"Motivation? There is none that would make a difference," he replied coldly, gaining a sense of where this was going.

"Perhaps, but if I find out your guards are treating the prisoners inhumanely," she stated dangerously, giving him some warning. Then after the briefest smile, she continued steadily, "I will discuss this matter with the prisoner in question. I believe temporary segregation is a worthy enough punishment, for your guard but suffered wounded pride. As for these demands. I need to talk with the Captain further to understand the nature of them."

Faramir narrowed his eyes, "Are you not of Rhun? Do you not know of this ritual?"

"Rhun is made up of thousands of cultures, each with their own historically evolving rituals and customs," she explained, "I do not know all that exist within its borders. If stated reason sways your denial, well, that remains to be seen."

Faramir gave consideration to her methods, noting she was methodical in her approach. Perhaps, her ways as a general of the past were not simply barbaric, despite what he witnessed of her the prior day. "Fair enough. Derufin will accompany you, for he also serves as my scribe and will note what is spoken at these meetings."

"I would not have expected otherwise," she stated, eyes engaged on his, following him as he left before turning them on Derufin, who seemed slightly uncomfortable by her presence.

"This way," he stammered out, afterwards leading her to the holding cells.

Vez was not surprised it would be Remi who caused the problem; she figured he would be a thorn in her side until dropping him off at the borders of Khand.

Coming upon his cell, she mocked, "Seems you have found yourself rightful place."

He smirked before standing up from his seat, replying slyly while his eyes grazed over her body, "And you proper attire. Rhunic finery suits you like no other."

Ignoring his remark, Vez inquired, "You are charged with assaulting a guard. I would hear more of this incident, not that I can trust anything you say."

"The guard got but deserved reply for brash insult of the one who now stands before me," Remi stated assuredly, standing a bit straighter.

"The guard insulted me?" Vezely queried disbelievingly.

"Gondorians do not know what it means to follow a woman of such worth," he stated with some pride while awaiting her reaction.

Remi had not changed one inkling since their prior engagements, continuing his unanswered affection for her and self-righteous attitude. "Regardless of their backwardness, it has cost you," she added mildly, not disagreeing with his assertion on Gondorian gender norms, "You will remain segregated for some time."

"Such a price is worth defending your honor," he added again with mischievous intent.

"Is it?" she asked now slightly perturbed, "When yesterday, a dishonorable title of past flowed freely from your lips?" She considered he was partially to blame for her disagreement with Legolas last night, and his interest in the meaning behind the moniker the "Evil Beauty," which prompted discussion of an uncomfortable and thereafter damning subject.

He smirked, reminding her that she hit him with the hilt of the dagger, "You did just cause grievous injury," he said placing a hand on his side.

She smirked slightly, "In lieu of one more deserved. Try not to find yourself in another mishap, for I will not dissuade harsher punishment," then she turned from him, having finished conversation and desiring to speak with the Captain.

"I will take this as you yet holding favor for me," he remarked amused as she left.

Vez stopped and looked at him over her shoulder, saying sardonically, "As one favors piss and shit," causing Remi to laughed, for Vez had not changed much in his mind either; still sarcastic and foul mouthed when she wanted to be. He could not deny he had a thing for her, and enjoyed every opportunity provided to let her know; missing such banter. As for Vez, Remi remained delusional she thought, as she continued down the corridor, Derufin at her side. The translator had not said a word while listening to their conversation, though he took brief notes.

At the gates of the courtyard, she asked him, "Will you be joining me?" Wondering if the man was brave enough to venture beyond the gates.

"Yes, I will," he said, trying to sound unworried.

"Alright, but I will not be held responsible for your safety," she replied nonchalantly in order to add to his discomfort with the task. The guard she had taken the dagger from the day prior started removing the belt from his side, fearful to be asked and wanting to be ready. Noting this, Vez smirked, "The weapon is not necessary today."

"Not necessary?" Derufin asked confused, perhaps hoping for the added protection.

"Nope, open the gates," Vez asked the guards who obliged.

Walking in with Derufin behind her, Vez was greeted by her men, who stood from their seated positions to offer respect for their new leader. "At ease," she said switching back into Easterling tongue, as she paced through them towards the Captain who also stood to greet her.

"General," the large, bald headed man greeted her properly.

"Captain," she replied back, "Forgive my shadow," she said referring to Derufin who trailed behind her. "They place little trust in us foreigners," which caused him to smirk. "But I would have proper council and perhaps, decent tea can be prepared for it," she said retrieving from her jacket pocket the small tin of Easterling Spice Tea she had purchased from the market that morning.

The prisoners had means to boil their own water, and thus make tea by kettle on one of the many small furnaces which served to heat the side rooms where they slept. The Captain immediately gave orders to a soldier to prepare the tea, as another placed a blanket on the floor as a makeshift meeting area. Vezely said nothing as the soldiers did the work; sitting comfortably on the floor across from the Captain holding her head high as the kettle and cups were brought to them and they were served. Vezely had many meetings like this with fellow commanders, the manners of which were specific and honed. Both observed them, customarily refusing to speak before the tea was poured and enjoyed. Derufin sat uncomfortably nearby, not given the same honor of being served tea.

After their first sip, the Captain retrieved from his shirt pocket a folded paper, placing it on the floor and pushing it over to Vez, who retrieved it and opened it to find scribed within the lists of all the soldiers names and ranks, including the names of the few Haradrim remaining.

"Gratitude," Vez spoke, breaking the silence as she perused the names on the list, grateful he had fulfilled her request, before folding the paper and placing it inside her own jacket pocket. "I wish to break words on the nature of the rites you desire performed, in hopes of persuading those of its necessity," her eyes shifted momentarily to Derufin, further explaining the nature of his presence and of her holding council.

Noting exactly what she meant, the Captain began his explanation, "A fortnight has passed, and before a second follows, oak and oil needs to be burned and rites spoken on the field of battle in order to ensure the spirits of the deceased will be sped along..." He further explained how since the bodies of their dead were not burned as customary, instead buried in a mass grave, such as ritual was even more necessary. He then added in confidence to her, raising one eyebrow, "I am as most commanders in regard to such rituals," revealing he was as her, for leaders often believed such superstitions were more important for the comfort and morale of those yet living, rather than actually having an effect on the spirits of those dead.

Vez nodded in understanding before adding, "If I recall, a divinator is needed to perform such rites," having heard of the ritual.

"There is one of proper ancestry who could perform them," he replied.

Vez internally acknowledged that the man he referred to was Remi, for his divination ancestry was an important factor in the resistance sending him to Khand; his name substantiated his connection to the region and he could enter the ranks of the Variags with a title of importance, possibly giving him access to valuable information. Vez then questioned whether the Haradrim had equal rituals of need, only to discover their moment to be performed had unfortunately passed. "...I will speak of its necessity to the Steward."

"Gratitude," he replied.

"Do not thank me until it is done," she said, before finishing her small cup of tea and placing the empty cup down in a fashion that alluded to the meeting's end and her departure. The Captain bowed his head down, showing deference to her as she stood up. Derufin also clumsily stood up behind her, finding his foot had fallen asleep below him.

The soldiers again stood straight in her honor as she walked through them, her eyes finding Yaban standing amongst them, his brow having been stitched of the gash her fist provided the day before. She walked over to him, curious of his current opinion on her. "Have you found your place, Officer Yaban?" she asked. He immediately bowed his head in deference, "Yes, General."

She turned towards her men, hoping to exchange words of confidence with them before leaving, "Break words with your Captain of any mistreatment at the hands of your captures, and know they will not go unanswered. But do not succumb to retaliation, for I would see all of you through those gates when the day comes..."

Vezely would go from a position of power to one of disrespect, being made to wait as Derufin counseled privately with Faramir on the nature of both conversations that took place, knowing not if his words were true to the events witnessed. He had also taken the list of names the Captain had given her, to inspect of any covert messages. Faramir would concede to the requests for these rites being performed, seeing no harm in oak and oil being burned, if farther afield from the main pathway into the city. Though he was less than pleased when hearing the divinator who would carry out the task was none other than the man who assaulted the guard and was being held in his own cell. Vezely was also less than pleased by this, assuming she would need to accompany Remi as he preformed the rites.

"...I want it done before guests arrive for the Coronation," he told her, not desiring to draw the attention of outsiders to these concessions made to the enemy.

Vez bowed her head appreciatively, as Faramir further explained the deed would not be done before Remi got his deserved punishment for assaulting the guard; he was to be sequestered from the others for at least another day.

While outwardly appearing in control of her emotions, internally Vez remained in a foul mood from the evening before. And returning to the guest villa feeling slightly fatigued and only desiring rest before the evening rolled around, made her acknowledge the possibility of snapping at any moment. If a house maid stopped her on her way to her room this time, she thought, she would not be so kind. But instead of a house maid diverting her path, she unexpectedly encountered Gandalf, whom she had not exchanged words with in some time. He beckoned her to come and sit with him in the nearby courtyard, to discuss matters that were undoubtedly of importance, for the wizard always had something important to say.


	27. The Dim Quarters

"You are a vision of rebirth my dear," Gandalf spoke pleasantly as Vezely sat next to him on the white stone bench, her expression noticeably taking these words as jest. "Truly," he stated assuredly, hoping to further explain, "You do not remember, but I pulled you from the dungeons of Dol Guldor." The mention of the fortress of her prior captivity further piqued Vezely's interest in what he had to say, "You were but a shell of a being, the light of your people almost spent. I was not convinced you would recover, but you have proved an old wizard wrong."

Vez smiled slightly and casted her eyes aside, feeling uncomfortable to know he saw her in such a pathetic state. She did not recall much from the event when the White Council drove out Sauron, except for waking up many days or possibly weeks later in the house of the Blue Wizard Romestano, far out on the edge of the deserts of Rhun.

"It may do your heart well to know that the fortress is destroyed. Lady Galadriel has torn down its walls," he announced, desiring to tell her the news when he heard it.

Her eyes flicked back to him, for she wasn't expecting to hear of its destruction, and further wondering of surrounding Mirkwood, "And the forests?"

"The Woodland Realm yet stands, though with substantial losses. Fire has spread throughout, but Sauron's servants are no more," he noted she displayed some concern for her homeland and was glad for it.

Vez breathed in deeply, glad to hear the war there was over, though desiring some other details, "Was it the Easterlings?"

"No, the Orcs of Dol Guldor. Despite Sauron's intentions, the Easterlings never joined the attack. Most of their legions were destroyed by the Dwarves and the men of Dale at the Lonely Mountain after Sauron fell. Though if otherwise, such good tidings may not have been," he added steadily.

Vez nodded halfheartedly, strangely thinking of her life being reversed - if they still had been her legions and if her current fate was as theirs. She assumed many if not most fought to the deaths, as Easterling militias were trained to.

Gandalf picked up on her melancholy, and slightly changing the topic asked, "I've heard you've assumed leadership of the prisoners and will be their escort back to Rhun."

"I have, though not all are convinced it is a good idea," she responded wearily.

The wizard considered a moment, before revealing more information, "There was a reason the Blue Wizards never provided you rank in the resistance," for Vez was always delegated menial tasks, "It was not because you lacked ability."

"Because I was untrustworthy," she responded knowingly; despite the years spent with them she never came to care much for their cause, always believing it folly.

"Perhaps," Gandalf considered with a slight lift of one eyebrow, adding, "But more so you needed to learn humility before being sent West, which had always been the plan." Vez had assumed this; that the Blue Wizards had been priming her to go West, and having her learn Elvish was part of it.

"Then it was wrong of me to assume leadership?" She jumped to this conclusion.

"No," Gandalf replied curtly, "You have Maiar in your blood, you are a natural leader. But you needed humility to move past your own ambitions, to find something higher to lead for."

Vezely contemplated his words, before smiling slightly, conceding what it was, "The greater good."

He nodded, "The war is not over in the East. The Blue Wizards would now have you use your honed strategies and tactics to help reduce the bloodshed, to help end the chaos. You no longer work for Sauron, but for the greater good. It is the debt you owe. And you will not seek glory for it, or stand to gain more than what is earned. There may yet be peace for Rhun, and for yourself when it is over."

"Peace," she repeated the word with slight disdain, becoming even more reluctant to hope for it personally, "I still know not what that is."

"Search back to your memories before you were taken, you will find it there," he replied.

Vez thought to her childhood, happy memories came to her but if offered only concern, "But it is as gazing upon another self, a stranger."

Gandalf added, "Your path to peace can only come after you reconcile it is not," prompting confusion in her eyes, "You cannot be Vezely of Rhun or Bellethiel of Mirkwood," he said raising an eyebrow at her, "Oh yes, I know your Elf name. No, instead you are just Vezely, or Vez as many now call you," he smirked, noting he had created the nickname when he first introduced her to King Theodon, "Once you accept that, others will too."

Vez noticed that like Romestano, Gandalf always simplified situations. They were never wrong with their assertions, but tended to leave out the steps which complicated the path between A and B.

He stood up from the bench, and turned to her, "No one is perfect, Vezely," and then adding with a certain amount of charm, "Not even Elves."

She smiled; glad to hear such an assertion, especially after spending the evening thinking of herself as completely unworthy of the race. "I've been meaning to ask you," Vez started, stopping him from leaving momentarily, "The Blue Wizards, are they alive?"

Gandalf smiled down at her, grateful to hear genuine concern and perhaps even fear in her question, "They yet may be," causing her to breathe in another deep breath, gaining some hope even if it was uncertain. He looked up at the sky considering, "Ah, it may just rain tonight."

She was amused on how Gandalf could end a heavy conversation on a lighter note, but it did little to stop her from over contemplating. Where just before she wanted to dash to her room, now she remained completely still, feeling the weight of this new information - the fall of Dol Guldur, about the destruction of the Easterling armies, about the torching of Mirkwood. An odd mix of melancholia and relief rushed over her and she stared blankly ahead, finding the anger from before subside slightly and wondering further about her future path.

Legolas had been returning to his room after an afternoon of his own responsibilities. The Elven Delegation would arrive in Minas Tirith in a number of days and being the delegate currently there he would assist in preparing for their arrival, even taking on menial tasks such as arranging guest rooms, since he knew a few Elves not to room next to each other, also meeting times, coronation details, even food, for some Elves were specific in their diets. Having such tasks, even if not entirely pressing, allowed his mind a much needed respite from the evening spent in contemplation and the discomfort caused by the letter received from his father that morning. But walking into the courtyard and seeing Vezely, now clothed in foreign garb further reminding him of her difference, and seated completely still, staring blankly ahead, exuding unsettling emotions, again brought back his prior feelings of confusion. He stalled his steps, noting he desired to engage in conversation with her, but was uncertain how to.

Though before a decision was made, she had turned her eyes on him, having heard his movement just prior. Her gaze narrowed, and a second later she looked away in obvious contempt for his presence. For Vez, her anger immediately returned when she noticed he had stalled, obviously contemplating whether to avoid crossing her path or not. He wanted avoidance she thought, perturbed over his hesitation, so she stood up and walked away from him not looking back. Unfortunately it was not in the direction of her room, since that was where he stood, so she really had no plans on where she'd end up.

Legolas felt wounded by her response, suspecting he had induced such contempt by his actions for leaving her last night. He began following her, knowing it was wrong of him to provide her the cold shoulder after he had said his heart would not skate from promised affection. Perhaps, he thought in pursuit, it was not his heart but his head which confounded him.

Vez continued her route on an unknown path through the guest villa, unexpectedly running into two hobbits merrily making their way to the kitchen.

"Hoi Vez, fancy meeting you here," Merry said cordially.

"Though I don't think it's too surprising Merry, seeing as we are all staying in the same villa," Pippin added jovially, making Vez again wonder whether he was poking fun at Merry's sarcasm or completely unaware of it.

"I know that Pip," Merry replied quickly after, an all too common reply to his friend's remarks.

"Where are you two off to?" Vez asked, thinking she could follow.

"The kitchen, of course," Merry stated forthrightly.

"We discovered a secret," Pippin stated, appearing proud to soon reveal it, "After meal leftovers are actually left over in the kitchen. Perfect to go sneak a mid-day snack, or in this case, a before dinner snack."

"You're welcome to join us, of course," Merry added optimistically.

"I'd like that. I've yet to eat lunch." She was admittedly glad for the offer, giving her a place to continue to and avoid a possibly contentious confrontation.

"No lunch, why would one skip a meal when food is aplenty? They had best meat pies today..." Pippin continued his friendly banter as they continued their way to the kitchens.

Legolas overheard Vez's encounter with the hobbits from an opposite corridor, causing him to forego his chase. He needed not provide an awkward confrontation amongst trusted friends who had only just recently heard of their courtship. He would equally avoid discussing their personal troubles with anyone, though he knew Aragorn would lend an understanding ear if need be. No, he needed to work this out with her privately and explain to her why he reacted that way. He was equally determined to settle this before the Elven Delegation arrived, when a host of other issues, now alluded to in his father's letter, would undoubtedly complicate everything.

* * *

The pre-dinner snack was adequate enough for dinner with Vez's non-hobbit sized stomach. The villa certainly had the stock of food to appease a large amount of guests, which reminded Vez of the change in activity that would soon take place there in the lead-up to the coronation. Merry and Pippin's conversation continued to mention Frodo and Sam, both still recovering in the infirmary. The two were still overjoyed at being reunited. It reminded Vez of all those she would be introduced to in the upcoming days, with the two heroic hobbits the least of her concern. While she knew very little about the Elven Delegation, she was aware that the delegates hailed from each of the Elven kingdoms in the West, including the Woodland Realm. She knew Lord Elrond would attend, but she was unsure if Legolas's father, Thranduil would. Even without the current conflict going on between her and Legolas, meeting members of her race who held important enough status to represent their people, and who undoubtedly would know or have heard of her past relations did much to dampen her resolve. In the West, deeds that earned her respect to Rhun's warring cultures, which helped garner her leadership of the remaining Variags, were obviously not points of honor for Elvish culture; indeed, they were points of denigration. While she certainly did not desire total acceptance, being lovingly embraced by her kin was far from her mind, she equally did not desire flat out rejection or contempt, which she felt she was dealing with from Legolas at the moment. Gandalf's words to her, of reconciling her two sides, seemed far from a reasonable solution to gathering even neutral opinions from Elvish elites. She would maintain her confidence and stay true to herself, she thought; she was on the right path and she believed in her methods, even if others were less than certain of them.

* * *

Despite the foreboding chance of rain, Vezely still had her mind set on going to the Dim Quarters in hopes of multiplying her coin. She dressed again in her Gondorian gown and covered her ears and hair by a headscarf, for if the city was truly hostile to any affiliation with Rhun, as the old shop keeper had told her, she did not need to flag herself as from there by wearing foreign garments; especially in quarters where the city's less noble mingled. The sights lining the streets which composed the Dim Quarters were not unfamiliar to Vez, who had seen similar seedy places in all the larger cities she had stayed in. Despite darkness having just fallen on Minas Tirith, already drunkards were pacing the streets outside, making their way to the next bar, the largest of which, Caster's Haven, was an establishment known for its underground gambling rings, or at least that is what the young house maid had told her. She knew after walking into the dark interior, whose candlelight was dimmed by the excessive pipe smoke, that she stood out. Not that other young women weren't there, but the style of her dress and headscarf, both demure for these parts of town, marked her as an innocent among wolves.

She stood at the bar and ordered a pint of ale before turning her back on it and propping her elbows behind her on its ledge. Tuning out the racket from the band playing, which was not soothing to her ears by any means, she surveyed the room's interesting mix of characters confidently; her stance and demeanor appearing less out of place than her outfit. As expected it took only a matter of seconds until a man engaged in conversation with her.

He was tall, middle aged, dark of hair and short in beard, "What's a pretty little thing like you doing in a dive like this?" He asked, as if a concerned father, though undoubtedly with other intentions.

Her ale had just been brought and she turned around to retrieve it, "Wouldn't you like to know," she rejoined with some attitude, giving him a bit of the run around, thus causing him to smirk and shift his eyes to his friends who were watching the exchange from afar. He wasn't going to give up that easy.

Vez took a swig of her ale as the man nudged up closer to her side, "If you're looking for a good time," he added chivalrously, "I can be of service."

"Can you now?" she asked raising one eyebrow, "If you or your friends over there," her eyes shifted, noting that she knew he was communicating with them, "Know where I can multiply my coin, then perhaps you can."

"You, take to the tables?" he laughed slightly, truly thinking she was joking.

"Take is a good word for my purpose," she replied bluntly.

He cackled, but noting she was a serious, he added, "Alright little thing. But I wouldn't recommend it. The tables are not kind to newcomers."

She smirked slightly before engaging his eyes, "Oh I count on it."

The man figured it couldn't hurt to let her waste her coin if it gave him an opportunity for some company after. "Well then, why don't you follow me?" He glanced again at his friends who were impressed that the girl followed him, but surprised as they walked towards a door at the back of the establishment. The man knocked and the door was opened to them, revealing a staircase leading into the attic which was filled with busy gambling tables full of rough looking patrons and air even thicker in pipe smoke.

"Who's the girl?" the large man at the door asked, appearing to be familiar with Vez's new companion.

"She has coin to throw away," he told him while exchanging an encouraging look to let them pass, "Might as well let her." The doorman stepped aside, foregoing giving him trouble due to owing his friend a favor; assuming rightly that he was interested in the girl for other purposes.

Vez had seen enough clandestine gambling circles in her time, always hidden in the darkest corners of cities which purported a wholesome facade. Minas Tirith's walls stood white, its citizens dressed demurely, its culture upheld noble practice, but as with every city, there existed a dark underbelly which punctured that superficial reality. She knew to step lightly for within this world; powerful people played dark games, and newcomers seeking profits or anything else were easy targets. She would sit alongside her new male friend, who introduced himself as Bayler along with the names of the others at the table, "...And your name little lady?" He asked.

"Vesper," she smirked slightly, not having used that alias in some time.

"That's an interesting name," Bayler replied.

"My mother was an interesting person," Vez replied looking at him, adding sarcastically, "But I don't think you're interested in my mother," which caused him to laugh.

"Can she play?" the man across from her asked Bayler, slightly perturbed that his friend brought the woman and now appeared to be flirting with her, and apparently wasting their playing time.

"And she can also answer questions," Vez quickly retorted, taking adequate coin from her purse and placing them on the table. "I believe this weighs more heavily on your mind."

The man shifted his gaze to the other players, and Vez knew they were exchanging similar thoughts - that her coin would be easily lost thus why not indulge and allow Bayler to his plaything after. Yet that was not how it worked out. Vez was too skilled at reading them and they remained too convinced in her incapableness to reconsider their strategies. She had tripled her coin in the matter of four rounds, much to their discontent.

"This little ones full of surprises," Bayler laughed after losing another hand and deciding to back out of game play; he wasn't overly concerned for he was more interested in her company after. Yet the others at the table were less pleased.

"Where did you say you were from?" the man across from her asked while reshuffling the cards before another round. He seemed to have some authority in the group and was more interrogative than others who just wanted to regain their losses.

"I didn't," Vez replied bluntly, obviously disinterested in giving details.

"You are not new to this, but I don't believe we've seen you around these parts before," he added suspiciously.

"You haven't," she replied again curtly, afterwards drinking the last of her mug of ale, still not desiring to give him any more information despite him wanting her to.

"A mystery," Bayler said unconcerned, while ordering another round of ale for him and his new lady friend by raising him hand, "I like that."

After the next round she decided it was enough for the night. Her coin had grown to a respectable amount, but it wasn't extraordinarily ostentatious for a newcomer, she thought. She hoped to forgo any complications. Gathering her coin she said sarcastically, "Now that I've gathered my coin, I'll leave you to gather what you have left of your dignity. It was a pleasure, gentlemen," she nodded courteously before leaving.

Their eyes shifted amongst themselves as she left the table, but Bayler calmed them, silently eluding that he would take care of it - meaning he would give her similar treatment as all newcomers who take the tables a little too masterfully; a forced tax on their profits.

Vez left the smoked filled room, ascended the stairs and made her way through the tavern and out the door into the fresh cool air of the darkened street. Yet Bayler was close behind her and grabbed her arm, "Not so fast little one," he said pulling her back, "I can't just let you leave now."

"And you were so close to being a perfect gentleman," she remarked before turning towards him, her tone shifting to one more serious as she spoke in her face, "Remove your hand, or see it removed from your arm indefinitely."

He laughed slightly, "You are a rough one," he then boldly placed his hand on her waist in an attempt at an embrace, "I can work with that."

"Work with this," she said as she took the hand he had on her and brought it and herself behind his back; after tightening her hold on him, surprising him with her strength and his inability to get lose, she whispered in his ear, "You have two choices. Let me walk away, leaving the pockets and egos of you and your friends slightly damaged, or I dislocate your arm and then walk away." When no answer was made, she added discomfort by twisting his arm closer to the popping point.

"Alright alright," he squeaked out, "You can go!"

"You are a very reasonable man, Bayler," she told him as if a parent to a child before easing her grip and stepping away from him. She then threw him a coin after retrieving it from her purse, "For the drinks." Through instinct, he caught the coin she had thrown, though if judged by his demeanor he appeared shocked by the occurrence, having never been dismissed by a lady in that way before.

Vez was not convinced he wouldn't retrieve his friends and follow her so she took an alternate path from where she came in, winding her way farther into the Dim Quarters before circling back around to the upper levels of the city. The dark alleyways were somewhat quiet, most inhabitants in the taverns rather than loitering in the streets, yet her Elf ears picked up on a disturbance which concerned her, a young woman screaming, "No, don't, please stop!" She moved into a dark alleyway, her eyes witnessing a struggle taking place between a young woman and aman. As soon as she saw the man hit the woman across the face sending her to the ground, she raced towards them, quickly grabbing the man by the collar and throwing him against the wall. The front of the woman's gown had been ripped, alerting Vez to the true nature of the confrontation. A second later, the man had pulled a knife from his pocket, swinging it towards his attacker, but Vez grabbed his wrist, pulled his arm straight, and used her other hand to break it by hitting it in a direction opposite his elbow joint. It caused the knife to fall from his grasp only to be retrieved by her in mid fall. He collapsed against the sidewall in pain. "You fucking broke my arm!" he screamed at her angrily. With knife in hand Vez quickly went to his throat with it, saying darkly, "You're lucky if I don't use this to break another part of you," as she trailed the knife down his torso to his crotch. His eye went wide, "No, don't, please stop!" he squirmed under her grip.

"Familiar words," Vez replied amused, "Perhaps I shouldn't heed them since you didn't."

"Lady Vez? Is that you?" the voice came from the woman the man assaulted, as she staggered to her feet besides her.

Not pleased to have her name called while the man was still conscious, Vez immediately stopped her toying with him and hit the man across the head, knocking him to the ground. Throwing the old dagger to the side, "Shelbi, I am not even going to ask why you are here," she said perturbed, recognizing the woman was none other than the young house maid who had told her about the Dim Quarters the other day.

"I...I just wanted to," she stumbled on her words, still in shock over what happened, or what could have happened.

"C'mon," Vez interrupted her, "Let's get you out of here," she put her arm around the girl to steady her steps, but before they could even make it from the alleyway, Vez's gambling buddies had discovered them and blocked their path.

Bayler stood alongside the three others she had met at the table that night, "Sorry little one, we don't let newcomers get away that easily," Bayler said casually, though internally he was not pleased by their past altercation for it caused him to lose face in front of his companions.

"That coin that weights your purse, you return it to us and maybe you'll get a chance to play the tables again," the leader stated as ultimatum, for he was even less amused by the girl than his friend.

"And if I refuse?" Vez asked with a small smile.

"I wouldn't do that now," he warned, as the largest man to his left starting walking towards them, his intent on taking her coin purse no doubt.

Vez pushed Shelbi aside, adding right back, "And I wouldn't do that," she engaged the eyes of the man approaching her.

The man went to grab her arm but Vez grab his wrist, and unsuspecting to the man himself, she pulled him downward with enough force that allowed her quickly raised knee to meet the side of his head, sending him to the ground; causing the others to realize she was serious in her threat. The man, disoriented from being clocked in the jaw hard, was on his hands and knees attempting to regain his composure and get back up; spitting blood and a tooth from his mouth in the process. "I suggest you all turn around and call the night a loss," Vez stated coolly walking towards the fallen man and placing her foot on his back, forcefully pushing him back down to the cobbled street below, "Unless you like losing teeth like your friend here." She found herself amused at actually offering them a choice, for she would not have in the past.

Yet the three men were unconvinced she could take on them all, and they encircled her. "It seems you left us no choice, little one," Bayler added, playing with his words, "It's a shame, seeing how we now have to mess up that pretty face of yours."

"You know what Bayler," she said, her eyes shifting among each man as she considered her fighting strategy, adding, "You talk too much," before punching him in the face. It was enough to invoke the two others to converge on her. At first Vez deflected their blows, toying with them to gauge their abilities. Street thugs, she thought disdainfully at their pathetic skills; not trained in combat, only bullying. She then moved to quickly knock them out, which would allow her and Shelbi time to escape from the Dim Quarters without being seen or followed.

After sending the two down, the third, who had already lost a tooth in the beginning, found another switch kick to the head in his second attempt to get up in order to aid his friends. This left only Bayler; the one who appeared the most cordial of the bunch had found his way over to Shelbi, who had nervously stood back from the entire confrontation. Bayler had the idea of using the young girl as bate in getting what he and his friends desired - Vez's money. Shelbi tried to run from him, but he grabbed her by the shoulders, and pulled her into an embrace. He didn't count on her struggling to fight him off of her. "Stay still," he yelled, hitting her across the face, but she retaliated by smacking him across the cheek. Being hit again and by another girl, sent Bayler over the edge and his hands went to her throat and he began strangling her.

Vez quickly made her way over to them, grabbing Bayler's shoulder, intending to pull him off of her and to send him the way of the others, only to find him in shock, looking down at his own abdomen, holding the hilt of a dagger whose blade had impaled him. Blood seeped from his mouth and he fell on the ground below, rolling over on his back. Shelbi had defended herself; the girl must have found and pocketed the dagger from her previous assaulter, and she used it in her moment of desperation.

Vez's eyes went wide as she watched Bayler fall, shocked by this development; her demeanor slightly matched that of the woman who did the deed. She went to her knees aside him, his life was draining along with the blood that poured from the middle of his body. A crack of thunder was heard and followed immediately after by rain bursting from the darkness above. The water hit all of them hard, and a red puddle started to grow on the ground beneath them. Vez pulled out the dagger and tossed it aside, afterwards removing her headscarf in order to use it to put pressure on the wound. The man held fear in his eyes, knowing he would die in mere moments.

"Bayler," Vez engaged the man with her eyes, "You need to stay focused," she said providing him hope, even though she knew there was little she could do to save his life.

Bayler looked upon the newly revealed Elf, finding some semblance of peace from the little light her aura protruded, "I am...sorry," he said incoherently, wasting his last breaths on words Vez did not want to hear. As his life was extinguished, Vez felt some mild sorrow by his passing, an emotion unbecoming to her, though her grief was also due to the predicament she now found herself in - one quickly brought back to her attention by Shelbi.

"What have I done? I. killed. him," the girl stammered in her own state of shock, her arms wrapped around herself, her body uncontrollably shaking.

Vez's now bloody hands grabbed Shelbi by the forearms, "Look at me," she said strictly, hoping to turn the girl's eyes from Bayler's dead body. "You defended yourself. He would have killed you. You did what you had to, to save your life." Her breathing was heavy, and tears had already begun streaming from her eyes. Vez brought an arm around her, "I am going to get you out of here," she coaxed her to move, stepping through the red water below them. The possible repercussions of being connected to the incident soaked into both of them along with the rain as they made their way out of the Dim Quarters; doing so unnoticed since all others were now avoiding the deluge and staying indoors.

Being the middle of the night, it was completely silent in the lobby of the guest villa, and the two drenched women appeared to have arrived without acknowledgment by the other guests or keepers. Vez continued to hold Shelbi by her side, guiding her towards her room; stopping in a hallway which departed in the opposite direction from where Vez's guest room was located. After Vez released her, hoping to send her to bed, Shelbi stood still, not sure what to do, "Please. Don't leave me alone tonight," she said pathetically, tears which had stopped on their quiet journey now started again, "Not tonight, please Lady Vez."

Vez looked upon the pathetic being; only a child if compared to her in age, her whole life ahead of her, and now one possibly ruined by one night of poor judgment on both their accounts. She acquiesced to her request with a nod, adding, "Alright. Let's get you dry, we don't need you catching a cold."

Acting as caregiver, Vez assisted the girl as a mother would a child, or a maid would a high lady. She helped her undress, got her dry clothes, wrapped her in a blanket, and got a basin filled with clean water and clean linen to tend her wounds. Vez kneeled beside her as she sat in a chair staring blankly ahead, dipping the cloth in water and carefully dotting the brushed cut on her eyebrow. The girl again began sobbing, causing Vez to prop up her chin, as her mind searched for the right words of comfort, which she had little experience of giving.

Shelbi looked upon Vezely's concerned eyes, and began fluently confessing her thoughts, "I should have never gone there. I should have never agreed to have him take me home. I was so stupid."

Her words of self-blame pissed Vez off, "It is not your fault. You are a free woman, you should be able to go wherever you like. And you did nothing wrong with assuming others had decent intentions. No man is allowed to do what was done to you, none."

"But. Then I. Killed that man," she stammered again, still in shock of her action.

"A man who was trying to choke the life from you," Vez replied back solidly, as she looked upon the red bruises all too apparent on her neck, "You did what you had to."

There was also fear in her eyes, "But how do I go on? If anyone finds out, I'll be thrown in jail, or worse!"

"For defending yourself?" Vez scoffed, though slightly afraid of the answer of what they do to women who kill in self-defense. Men of the West had not proven more advanced in terms of gender hierarchies.

"They will never believe me," she said in a panic, "I don't know what to do!"

Vez grabbed her shoulders, turning her attention back to her, "First, you hold your head high. Do not let this event destroy you. Those men do not warrant ruining your life over. You are strong, and proved yourself fearless in the face of horror. Do not think otherwise."

She tried to believe her affirmations, tried to hold it together, but blurted out a moment later, "Please don't tell anyone, Lady Vez. Even that I was in the Dim Quarters tonight, for if the other house maids found out they would assume I am not a virtuous girl. I'd lose my job and I wouldn't have anywhere to go. Please Lady Vez, promise me."

An uncomfortable knot had formed in Vezely's gut, making her uneasy about promising, from where such concern came, she knew not. She looked at her wearily, deciding it best to agree and calm her fears. "No one needs to know."

Vez tucked the young girl into bed and waited by her bedside until she was asleep, standing guard as she heard Legolas had done for her when she was poisoned. It was right before dawn when she decided to leave the young girl's quarters. Her dress was yet damp from the rain which had stopped a few hours ago; it made the air smell clean and the breeze filtering through the open walkways feel crisp and cool to her skin. Vez desired only to be unseen, for her gown's skirt was dyed in red up past her knees, stained by the puddle of Bayler's blood she knelt in. She knew it would not come clean and needed to be disposed of, for the implications of a blood stained dress would cause questioning.

When she made it behind her closed door, she let out a sigh of relief. She removed her coin purse from her pocket and threw in on her desk, causing some of the round metals to escape from its top. The sound and sight stood as reminder of the incident, causing her to curse herself in Easterling for suddenly finding herself in such a precarious situation - all due to a desire to multiple her coin. She pondered if she would have just let her gambling buddies have what they wanted then a young girl's hands would be clean, Bayler would be alive, and any possibility of being implemented in a death charge would have washed away with the rain.

After she had washed her face and hands, she had begun removing the outer layer of her ruined dress when a soft knock came at her door, the footsteps of the one who produced it were imperceptible to her ears thus she knew it was Legolas. The Elf had heard the two women arrive in the middle of the night, for he was up on the veranda listening to the raindrops and admittedly, concerned about Vezely's whereabouts.

"Now is not a good time," Vez called to him perturbed in Elvish, alerting him that she did indeed know it was him. She then began peeling the inner layer of her damp gown off, hastily finding her new pants and shirt from among the clothes she hadn't bothered to fold or put away prior to leaving earlier. After dressing, she wrapped the blood stained clothes into a bundle, throwing them under her bed for the time being.

Legolas replied in a calm manner, "I am checking to see if everything is alright. You returned late, and the young woman you were with, she sounded in trouble."

Vez gritted her teeth, for they were not unseen as hoped, "It is not your concern," she replied steadily, coming closer to the door but of no mind to open it.

Legolas could since her unsettled emotions: slight nerves, mixed with anger and uncertainty, "If something has happened, I would lend aid."

His polite gesture only reminded her of the prior evening's conversation. His words,  _if I would have known,_  filtered again through her head. She scoffed slightly. Leaning her back against the door, knowing he was directly on the other side; she was invisibly turning her back on him. She queried sarcastically, "Now knowing the true nature of my past, you would lend aid? I doubt that."

Legolas closed his eyes and placed the palm of his hand on the door itself, as if he knew she leaned against the other side. Part of him felt her reply was childish, for he was simply displaying his concern, yet another part of him was wounded by her words, as he was wounded by her overt disdain of his presence earlier that day. He knew he had caused this strife by turning away from her when he said he would not. "We have not finished our conversation, thus I do not yet understand the true nature of your past," he said cautiously, hoping to reiterate that he still wanted to converse with her so he could understand.

"It was finished, and you left conceding not to understand," Vez reminded him sharply, for she had provided him enough details, even uncomfortable ones that he demanded she give, and she tried wholeheartedly to explain her changed position, yet he walked away.

"I left because there was much I had not expected to hear," he explained, adding, "I needed..."

"Time," Vez finished his sentence, turning and talking at the door itself, "Time to reconsider our relationship."

He didn't reply, for it was what he needed, for he felt deceived into loving her and uncertain they could have a future together, but it was his head, not his heart that needed time. His heart belonged to her, regardless of her past. "Vezely," he said softly, pressing his forward against the door, hope apparent in his plea, "Please open the door so I can explain."

Vez stepped back from the door, crossing her arms and committing mentally to not pull it open. But after a moment of silence, she noted perhaps he did desire to reconcile what they had, and her heart ached to have it so. So she answered him, with a tone as soft and hopeful as his, "My door still remains unlocked to you," giving him choice to make the next move.

A small smile formed on Legolas's face after hearing her words, for her giving him leave to enter her quarters as she did the first day they came to the villa, a time when no strife existing between them. He grabbed the handle, turning the knob when a small bevy of guards were heard marching down the hallway, led by Faramir, who personally hailed him.

"Lord Legolas, is Lady Vez in her quarters?" he asked authoritatively, his voice also alerting Vezely inside. By the sound of the footsteps and the clank of metal, she knew Faramir was not alone, but with guards. She gritted her teeth and cursed in Easterling tongue, knowing all too well why they were there.


	28. Caged

Legolas removed his hand from the doorknob, and turned towards Faramir as he marched closer, his blue eyes querying why the Steward and armed guards would be looking for Vezely as his thoughts strayed to the evening past and her unknown whereabouts. But before he replied to Faramir's question, Vezely had opened the door, and stepped out into the hallway. She stood right next to Legolas, but she didn't acknowledge him; instead her eyes were fixed on Faramir's, watching expectantly as his demeanor became cold when looking upon her.

"Lady Vez," he said curtly, "We need you to come with us."

Vez narrowed her eyes, "Why?" 

Faramir tilted his head ever so slightly, silently commanding his guards to encircle her, adding calmly as they did, "Your name has been associated with an incident in the Dim Quarters. We ask you come quietly for questioning." 

"My name?" Vez returned skeptically, her eyes keeping attuned to the guards positioning themselves nearby, "And this warrants accompaniment by your friends?"

"What is this incident you refer to, Lord Faramir?" Legolas asked politely, as he noted perhaps he was the only person there confused.

Faramir's gaze did not leave Vezely's as he explained, "Two men were found in an alleyway last night in the Dim Quarters. One unconscious, his arm broken, the other dead, stabbed in the stomach. After awakening, the unconscious man remembered your name. He claims you broke his arm before knocking him unconscious. It is unlikely you would be mentioned at all in such a place if you were not there."

Vez knew Shelbi's blurting of her name before knocking her attempted rapist unconscious would come back to haunt her. She replied nonchalantly, not letting any emotions seep through, "I was in the Dim Quarters last night. I may have broken a man's arm. I even may have knocked him unconscious. But you are suggesting I did something else. Say it, go on," she taunted him to convict her of murder.

Faramir adjusted his stance slightly, the request to accuse her of killing the other man made him uncomfortable for the possible reaction it could garner. He was not convinced Vezely was a cool headed individual, having witnessed her hit a Variag prisoner repeatedly without what he saw as a good cause. Before a reply could be garnered, however, his attention was turned to the guard who had entered Vezely's room and returned to the hallway holding her blood stained dress out to him. "Steward, we found this, hidden under her bed."

Faramir's stern eyes returned to Vezely's, who gritted her teeth and tried to shake off the desire to crack the guard's skull against the wall.

"No Lady Vez," Faramir finally replied to her request, "You say it."

"There must be a mistake," Legolas interjected calmly, even though seeing the dress as evidence and hearing Vez confess to injuring the one man did little for him to see how she couldn't also be responsible for killing the other.

"The mistake is not asking why," Vez added angrily, "You believe I am so base that I would simply murder an individual without due cause."

"From what I know, you do not have a clean record," Faramir replied forthrightly.

"There was another woman involved," Legolas again added his voice, attempting a defense, "That Vezely returned with to the villa last night."

"This is not your concern, Legolas, stay out of it," she responded to him sternly in Elvish so Faramir would not understand; her eyes remained diverted from his, however, she simply could not look at him right now.

"Another woman?" Faramir queried looking from Legolas to Vezely, "Is this so?" He interrogated.

"No, he is mistaken," Vez stated steadily to Faramir, "I was alone."

"Then you admit to it," Faramir responded.

"Yes," Vezely replied, holding her head high, "But the man deserved death."

"That is not for you to decide. We have laws in Minas Tirith and ones that protect life and everyone's right to it. Put her in chains," he ordered the guard next to her.

Vez breathed in deeply, saying with warning through clenched teeth, "Those won't be necessary," watching the guard come closer to her with irons.

"I'm afraid they are," Faramir replied undeterred, unconvinced she wouldn't try anything on the trip to the prison.

Seeing no other choice, except for ones that would land her in worse trouble, Vez succumbed to being chained, getting an unpleasant and unsettling reminder of her past. Faramir commanded his guards, "Take her." The two guards grabbed her roughly by the forearms and coerced her to walk with them down the hallway. Vez remained quiet as they locked her in the back of barred carriage which would transfer her to the second level prisons, the same ones where the prisoners of war were located.

Faramir stayed behind momentarily to engage in conversation with Legolas, who spoke concerned, "Vezely is many things Lord Faramir, but she would not kill without reason. Regardless of her past discretions."

He knew Vezely held meaning to Legolas, so he replied gently, "I promise she will be given a fair prosecution."

 _Prosecution_. Legolas was left standing there milling over the word, disbelieving the reality of the situation. Such horrible business typically fell far outside the borders of his kingdom, or all present day Elvendom for that matter. Elves of the Third Age rarely fell prey to committing assault or murder, or any other foul play against their kin. Now he again wondered whether his suspicion about Vezely was correct. Did her corruption run so deep that she could not control herself even now, even with the light of his people returned to her?

Just minutes before he was close to an attempt at reconciling. He would have walked through her door and apologized for turning from her after he said he would not. He would have told her that his heart had not abandoned her. If all had been set right, Legolas had planned to respond to his father's letter that evening, telling him not only that he had heard the call to leave these shores, but that he would be leaving with her by his side, when she could go. Now all was again uncertain. Perhaps she will never be redeemed for she could not make it a few weeks without re-staining her hands. Yet he also wondered why Vezely desired to keep the young woman she returned with last night a secret. He suspected she was the reason for the incident to begin with, or at least that was the conclusion he could make. It made no sense to him, but he made it a point to find out.

* * *

The guards not to politely escorted Vez through the prison grounds, Faramir following them close behind. "Thought you'd appreciate the company," Faramir announced amused as they brought Vez to a holding cell right next to Remi's; the man stood up upon their entrance, watching the affair curiously.

Once inside the cell, the guards unlatched her iron cuffs before leaving; slamming the door shut and locking it behind them. Outwardly, Vez remained calm and collected, her eyes narrowed on Faramir's, seeping no emotion, but inside her head she was screaming, as memories of her captivity in Dol Guldur were inescapable, gnawing at her insides.

Remi starred at her curiously long after the guards and Faramir had left, prompting Vez to reply annoyed, "Wipe that smug look off your face."

"What did you do?" he asked intrigued.

She looked at him briefly, "What didn't I do?" she remarked, trying to brush off her discomfort with sarcasm.

He cracked a half smile, "It must be fate, to have your company again," he spoke assuredly.

"Don't flatter yourself," she said crossing her arms while going to lean against the back wall of the cell.

"Ah, but what else could it be? First, you and I find ourselves reunited at the end of the war, now we share a cell next to each other," he spoke optimistically while pacing slightly in thought over it, making Vez roll her eyes.

"Divinators," Vez remarked disdainfully of his trade, "They all think they are blessed by the stars because they pretend to know how to read them."

He smirked, "Well, I am one of the thirty-four still standing," he reminded her of the number of Variags remaining. She didn't reply, her thoughts taking her away for a moment. Noting the discomfort seeping through her cocky demeanor, Remi asked wondering, "Do I make that harsh a company?" He went to the back wall before sitting on the floor and leaning against it, stretching his legs out. "We had some good times, you and I," he noted of their past.

Vez looked over at him, seeing a more neutral demeanor on his face, as if he knew she was uncomfortable being there and wanted to help settle her nerves through more polite conversation. She uncrossed her arms and after a moment sat on the ground as well, "They were okay," she replied unimpressed.

He smiled slightly, "Ah c'mon, you and I in Devonporta, practically got ourselves into worse trouble than we are now."

Vez smirked, amused slightly in remembrance. It was an undercover mission to acquire militia supply documents from a major iron merchant in the area. The resistance hoped to ascertain the locations of shipment ports and the size of shipment orders to deter them later. Vez often went alone on such assignments, but the region was hostile to single woman, and male traders without female servants were not worthy of societal consideration. "You only enjoyed that mission because I had to pretend to be subservient to you."

"That and the outfit you wore," he smirked, for she dressed as one would expect a concubine.

She shook her head, "You continue to remind me why I hit you," she added thinking back to the incident which almost blew their cover. He had gotten too frisky in his acting, thinking his role gave him leeway to put his hands on her inappropriately. She had hit him hard in view of other men, a big mistake in the understandings of the culture.

"It was worth it," he said amused.

"Ha," Vez scoffed, remembering Remi had to explain under the threat of dismissal that their relationship was intentionally rough because he liked it that way. She added with disdain, "Devonporta was lucky. If I had marched through there with my legions, I would have destroyed them simply for their disgusting customs."

Remi laughed slightly, not disapproving of her malevolent thoughts, making Vez appreciate being able to make such remarks about her past freely without much concern for her present character, something she couldn't do around Legolas who might see it as condoning what she did. Thinking of Legolas further twisted her gut; their relationship was over, she thought, for she had just proven her inability to redeem herself. She knew not what would have been the outcome this morning if they had engaged in conversation; whether they could have reconciled their differences and moved on in their relationship. Now, she thought perhaps she would not see him again. How could he still care for her or even desire to look upon her when it appeared she remained her past self; that she couldn't go a few weeks without causing trouble. The most she could hope for was a quiet banishment from Gondor; to return to Rhun with her men and not be seen from again. At least that is what she would bargain for if they did not accept killing that man in self-defense as good enough reason.

She knew not where her compulsion to protect Shelbi came from. She did admit to feeling responsible for the incident, for not giving the gamblers her coin and instigating a fight, and then being too involved in that fight to notice Bayler's whereabouts. Shelbi's words, about her life being ruined by this incident rang true to Vezely's understanding of culture in the West. She was so young, Vez thought woefully, and she deserved a chance for a better life than working the streets or serving drinks at filth infested taverns in the Dim Quarters; or worse, to be locked away because the men of this city care little for girls who kill in self-defense. If she could divert that fate, shouldn't she?

Vez had become unnervingly silent, her thoughts taking over that she did not reply when Remi brought up another topic to discuss. His words seemed to fade into the background noise of the prison. She had brought her knees up, clasping her arms around them and resting her head on the back wall appearing cool and unfazed, but her heart was breaking within her. Why she once held hope for her own blissful future made her feel foolish. If she was lucky, she would return to Rhun, do what she could to help its people, and then quietly fade from existence. To have hoped for a better future was selfish, considering all the wrong she had done in her life.

Remi attempted to break her silence, but to no effect. To him, she appeared to be meditating; knowing that Elves did not sleep. He couldn't help but wonder about her thoughts, but he would never have expected much of them were occupied by matters of the heart.

* * *

After asking several of the guest villa's workers, Legolas discovered one house maid had not reported for work that morning; her boss being told that she was sick. Sensing the Elf's urgency, they told him where her room was located. He knocked on her door, but no one answered, yet he could hear her movement inside. "Lady Shelbi, my name is Legolas. I am a guest of Lord Aragorn," he spoke at the door, hoping she would listen to him, "If you would be so kind as to speak with me about what happened last evening. I know you returned late here and with Lady Vez by your side."

There was still no answer. Legolas continued. "Please Lady Shelbi, she has confessed to killing a man and was taken by Lord Faramir this morning. If there is any information you have which could aid in her defense..."

The door unlatched and opened, and the young girl stood in view of the Elf who stood shocked by the view of her bruised face and neck, her eyes red from crying, "They took her?" she asked concerned.

"She is being held in the second level prisons," Legolas spoke carefully, noting the girls emotional instability. "What happened to you last night?"

She shook her head, "I can't talk about it."

"She aided you, did she not?" he asked, prodding her on the subject.

"She did, she saved me, but then," she stalled, looking aside, "I can't talk about it. I can't be involved. I'm sorry." She quickly shut the door on him, returning to the inner confines of her room.

"She needs your help, Lady Shelbi," Legolas spoke up, "If you could tell Lord Faramir what happened, then..."

"I'm sorry, I cannot help," she called back adamantly, causing Legolas to query whether he should have Aragorn intervene in the situation, or if the young woman truly had a good reason to stay quiet, as Vez also desired not to mention her.

"Lady Shelbi," Legolas desired to leave her with one more appeal, "Lady Vez and I are to be married. If you could help her in any possible way, I would be indebted to you." He waited a few more moments before leaving, not knowing if she would reconsider.

* * *

"It does not add up," Legolas remarked concerned when discussing the situation with Aragorn, "Vezely would not simply kill a man without reason."

"This young woman, she appeared badly hurt?" Aragorn asked for confirmation.

"As one would after they are roughly handled by someone with mal intentions," Legolas told him, "She holds a great fear of intervening, but I have no doubt her story would explain why that man is dead."

"Perhaps I can persuade her to do so," Aragorn considered, deciding to go talk with the young house maid. But when the two showed up at her door, she was nowhere to be found; she had disappeared from the villa, letting none know of her whereabouts.

"She will come back," Aragorn reassured him, placing a hand on Legolas's shoulder to calm his worry.

"And if she does not. What is to be Vezely's fate?" he asked uncertain.

"I believe as you do that this man's death was not intended. Yet I am also beholden to the city's laws and Faramir is yet the city's protector. I will talk with him and hopefully her fate will not be grim," he said encouragingly.

* * *

Footsteps coming down the hallway jerked Vez from her thoughts. As Faramir entered their view, Remi remarked, " _Yavonka_ ," a word in their language meaning an individual whose sole power comes from heritage. A disrespectful term reflecting the disdain many in Rhun had for the concept of kings and lords which were so prevalent in the West.

Vez smirked, for her impression of him was not much different at this point. The Steward was followed closely behind by none other than Shelbi's attacker, who appeared to be acting completely opposite to how he was the evening before.

"Is this her?" Faramir asked the man, coming upon her cage, not actually paying any attention to her inside.

"That's her, she was wearing a headscarf last night though," he stated nervously, protecting his broken arm and hiding behind Faramir, not desiring to be in complete view.

Vez's eyes narrowed on him, she stood and walked slowly towards the cell's barred door, as if stalking the man as an animal to its prey.

The man added hastily to Faramir, "Can we go now?"

Faramir noted the man's fear, taking it as a sign of Vez's previous aggression against him, "You can go," he said, allowing the man to hustle off in the direction they came. Vez refrained from making a comment, though she desired to speak of his foul deeds, his attempted rape of a young woman, yet doing so would require discussing Shelbi's involvement.

"You place fear in the hearts of men," Faramir stated, looking upon her.

"Someone needs to," she replied bluntly, holding her head high.

Unsurprised by her reply he added judiciously, "You will have a hearing tomorrow. We handle things civilly here," condescendingly implying that her own culture did not, "You will be given a chance to defend yourself before a verdict is given."

"I want this handled privately," Vez insisted back, "I would accept punishment if dictated by King Elessar," she knew Aragorn was not yet crowned, but felt she could swing his title around to deject Faramir's authority slightly.

"I will consider it," he replied, though Vezely did not think he would. He left and she would return to her position on the ground, wanting nothing more than to be on the other side of the bars and away from the White City if she could, not looking back on its inhabitants.

"A Balchoth warrior willing to accept punishment from a Western king?" Remi remarked disdainfully overhearing the conversation, "You have grown soft."

Vez was overtly displeased that his words echoed Öldür's, who would often say the same thing when she appeared to use less violent tactics. Yet as prior, she had her reasons and gave a truthful reply, "I am not in a position to do otherwise. My only goal is to return to Rhun with you and the others remaining within these walls. My pride need not deter me."

Remi considered for a moment her words. Perhaps, he thought, she was a true leader, willing to make sacrifices for the good of the men. He supposed he could respect that, though it presented a different image of her than he'd known while in the resistance. She cared little of anything but herself then.

As the hours passed, Vez tried to remain calm, but the walls felt as if they were closing in on her, suffocating her. She kept her eyes closed, slowing her breathing to relax, but memories of Dol Guldur haunted her - the darkness, the hunger, the cold, the loneliness. She survived that ordeal because she held on to anger mixed with pride; because she was determined not to succumb to her enemy in that way. She was a Balchoth warrior; she would not die as a caged animal. But now, she had no enemy to hate, and none to plot revenge against. How does one hold up such walls without these strengths, as she saw them? Vez knew her mind was overreacting; for her imprisonment would be temporary. They wouldn't hold her prisoner forever and at least, the following day, if there was a hearing, she would have reprieve from her cell. But her mind cared little for being rational, and the darkness of nightfall only added to her anxiety. Thinking of Legolas only brought her sorrow. She felt guilty for accepting his love, and putting him through such a period of confusion and now hurt. He did not deserve such turmoil; he is too good and kind an Elf to inherit her constant troubles. Perhaps, she even thought, this whole ordeal is for the better. Maybe it would prompt Legolas to sail West, not needing to wait and fret over her uncertain return. There in Valinor, he could live in bliss among his kin and their love would be nothing more than a forgotten memory. He deserved such relief from this life in Middle Earth, from the centuries of peril in his home forest, and the destruction and death that surrounded him in this war. He deserved peace, something she knew she could never provide him.

* * *

That evening, Legolas stared at his father's letter, re-reading the words:

_I am not and have never been a father who sways trusted son from own path, but I do seek to place warning in your head for darkness that could follow such unconsidered desires._

He laughed uncomfortably at the word "unconsidered," especially since he felt ever since he met Vezely he has been considering their relationship; milling over his initial attraction to her, whether it was simply pity or her odd differences that peaked his curiosity. Upon discovering it was something more and that she held similar feelings, he had to consider whether he truly desired changing his life's stance as a detached warrior and enter into a partnership. Other concerns, from the war's uncertain outcome, the unexpected call of the sea, to Vezely's shaky redemption, all motioned more consideration. If anything, he had considered more and understood deeply the darkness his father spoke of. But a warning in one's head does not change the feelings in one's heart. His father would encourage him, no doubt, to sail away from these shores and let time mend a heart put asunder. He may even further encourage seeking a relationship with Lady Adele, to try and replace those longings with ones new. But neither for him would suffice for he had already given Vezely his heart. If darkness, also in the form of familial and social complications was truly his future, he would accept it, for wouldn't a broken heart bring worse?

* * *

Vezely's hearing that morning would be private, per her request to Faramir and with Aragorn in attendance. Legolas came to Vezely's cell alone, before they would escort her to the hearing, desiring to exchange words in private.

He had not expected Remi to be in the cell next to her. Upon seeing the golden haired Elf, neatly dressed in blue robes, the man stood up and walked to the front of his cell, smugly starring him down as if sizing him up to fight. He distrusted Elves, as many men in Rhun did, knowing little about their culture or history. They were only known as immortal beings that would rather make peace than war; a concept laughable to Variags and many other warring tribes. Some enclaves in Rhun even viewed them as gods, or demons depending. For some reason, despite Vez's Elvish appearance, her Easterling manners tended to gain her a pass from many of these associations. Even Remi often forgot about her race.

"This one's prettier than you," Remi mocked in Easterling to Vez, hoping to gain her amusement. Legolas was staring back at him with equal intensity, his previous behavior around Vez being enough of a reason to dislike him.

Vez shook her head at the remark. "Stand back Remi, he is more dangerous than you think." She then switched her tongue to Elvish, asking her visitor perturbed. "Why are you here?" It broke his glare and that of Remi's who had not heard her speak in that tongue before. Though while Legolas turned his attention to her, her eyes remained cast away from his for fear of seeing his true emotions.

"I apologize that you are moved to ask that question," he said with regret in his voice, "For the other night I left you when I said I would not."

She stood up but remained turned from him, "I should have expected that reaction," she confided steadily, crossing her arms, "I was foolish to think telling you more of my past would bring confidence rather than disapproval. And I have already disproved the cause I claimed to hold. If you came here to break final words between us, know I do not desire to hear them nor require they be spoken."

Legolas realized she believed he was there to properly end their relationship. "Vezely," he interrupted her, hoping she would turn her eyes to him, "That is not why I came."

She slowly did as he desired, "They why?" she asked forcefully but with hidden trepidation.

The fear in her voice caught him off guard, "To tell you, my heart has not abandoned you." The unexpected revelation brought confusion to her demeanor; she searched his eyes discovering they still held the love she had known. He added with care, "It never can."

After a moment she responded, regret present in her voice, "If this is true, I am so sorry for the despair I continue provide you. You need to let me go, Legolas. You should sail West and be at peace, you deserve better than this," adding adamantly, "Than me."

Legolas shook his head, and placed his hand on the bars wishing the barrier was not there, "I cannot do as you wish, even if I desired to."

Disregarding that the two were having an emotional conversation, the guard had come and unlocked the door, entering her cell to put her in cuffs. She didn't resist as the cuffs were locked in place; instead she starred listless at his blue eyes, hating herself for the choices she had made that ended her there now. The guard pulled her arm, forcing her to walk with him.

Remi noted the delicacy of the conversation, the fear and sorrow apparent in Vezely's voice and now painted on her face. He disliked the effect this Elf had on Vezely's typical cocky attitude and strong demeanor; he softened her. He glared at Legolas as he left; a hateful glare the Elf returned momentarily as he followed the guard down the corridor.

"Ah, there she is," Gandalf's voice hit Vezely's ears unexpectedly after she entered the room where she was to be sentenced, "And unnecessarily bound," he chastised a moment later.

She had little more than a few seconds to register who was there before running towards her was none other than Shelbi. The young maid clutched onto her as if a hurt child to her mother, sobbing into her shoulder. "Oh Lady Vez. I am so sorry for asking you to keep this secret. I told them everything."

Vez looked noticeably uncomfortable at being clung to in such a manner, her eyes querying what exactly they knew.

"I came upon this little one heading away from the villa and urged her to come this morning," Gandalf explained, as one of the guards was directed by Faramir to unlatch Vezely's cuffs.

Shelbi looked up at Vez, saying sorrowfully, "I couldn't let you take responsibility."

"We know you did not kill that man, that you even tried to save him, and the reason behind the assault of the other," Faramir spoke judiciously, "You wanted to protect her."

She held Shelbi by her side defensively and narrowed her eyes on the Steward, "I still do. What is to be done with her?"

Aragorn politely interjected, "She will not be charged and her job will be under my protection. She was brave. That man intended fatal harm," for Shelbi's bruises appeared as one would expect from her story.

Vez accepted these terms with a small nod. Shelbi then left her side and returned to her mother, who she left the villa to stay with; with her daughter in her arms the mother spoke to Vez, tears in her eyes, "Thank you for protecting my child. If I could repay you for it somehow."

Vez replied bluntly, appearing unmoved by the gesture, "That is not necessary."

The mother thanked her again and she watched as the two left the room, leaving her alone with Faramir, Gandalf, Aragorn, and Legolas, who yet stood by her side.

"I am no martyr," Vez spoke to them, holding her head high, not desiring praise for her act or apologies for her imprisonment, "I did what I did because she is young, and I have seen too many girls punished for incidents outside of their control. I did not trust this city was any different in handling such cases."

"A regrettable truism," Aragorn added, "One I do not desire to be so here."

Faramir agreed in reflection, "As well as the incident itself. Corruption has overrun the Dim Quarters for far too long and we should seek measures to clean it up..." Vezely refrained from making any other remarks as the two men discussed briefly this business further. She desired to respectfully keep out of the city's affairs, as well as out of the Dim Quarters for the time being, despite desiring more coin.

Gandalf approached her side, saying slyly, "You are too good a liar my dear. An unusual trait for an Elf, but an asset in your case," having known of her tasks in the resistance, "Try to keep out of trouble."

Vez smirked slightly, watching him leave with Aragorn and Faramir following behind him. She exchanged a brief glare with the Steward, knowing their relationship would remain tense. This left her alone with Legolas, who had heard Shelbi's story before going to her cell.

"You knew?" Vez queried, her eyes searching the now empty room, as she crossed her arms appearing uncomfortable.

"I did, but even if I did not, I would have spoken the same words to you," he replied carefully, coming closer to her.

Vez closed her eyes momentarily, appearing upset to hear this, "You should still let me go. We are not well-suited for each other."

"My father believes the same," he revealed carefully, now standing in front of her, her eyes inquisitive on his, "A letter arrived two days ago. He desires I marry another, to honor a new alliance between our kingdom and Lothlorien."

"It is for the better," she appeared strong, though internally it pained her to hear of his father's rejection and his intentions for his son to wed another, "I am only trouble."

He could see through her facade; her attempt to do what she thought was best for him, even if her heart desired otherwise. "You are trouble," he agreed forthrightly, "You are stubborn, unpredictable, completely uncouth," lecturing her caused her to narrow her eyes on him, "And being with you will cause me grief with my father, and among my kin. But being without you," he voice softened, "That is grief I could not bear."

Vezely felt her heart jolt; she shook her head, "Legolas," her voice cracked, thinking what he said could not be true, "You do not mean that. The other night you..."

Legolas grabbed her forearms and pulled her into an embrace, something his heart desired to do that night when she revealed the cruel aspects of her past, but his head could not move past them. "I should not have left you," he finished her sentence softly in her ear, apologizing for his behavior which he knew grieved her, though she would not admit it.

Vezely allowed herself to be pulled into him and with a single breath all resistance she held onto was gone. She uncrossed her arms, enclosing them around him, and she buried her head into his shoulder. Unexpectedly, tears fell from her eyes. He was surprised by this, for it was not something he had witnessed of her strong character before, but he said nothing as she silently cried. He simply held her, his heart needing her return embrace just as much.


	29. Contentment

Vezely's tears just as quickly subsided, and she realized ashamedly that she let them fall so freely. She said sardonic, her face still against his shoulder, "I am acting as a child."

"Even the eldest among us cries," Legolas said quietly, hoping she would not feel embarrassed, he looked upon her with a small smile of encouragement.

"It is not becoming for someone as myself," she said concerned, straightening her posture.

"I will not tell anyone," he replied chivalrously, hoping such a statement would amuse her. And it did, a smile cracked through her serious demeanor and she nodded to accept his promise.

They stood silently looking into each other's eyes, uncertain the right words to say for much had been left unspoken between them. They loved each other, this much was certain, but complications still plagued their relationship, and now in regards to Legolas's father and kin, new problems loomed on the horizon.

"Will you permit me to take you away from the city for a day?" Legolas inquired in a slightly too polite manner. He had desired since returning to Minas Tirith to take her on a day trip to the nearby forests of Ithilien, to be in the comfort of nature since the city felt cold to him.

"Away? Now?" She asked surprised for it was an unexpected request, but noting he was serious she agreed, "Alright, I permit you."

He offered her his arm and she slid her hand around it in order to be escorted from the prison, her eyes now dry but mind still feeling uncomfortable from the whole day spent locked in the cell. They were silent on the way to the stables, with Legolas mounting the horse first, offering Vezely a hand after. She had little trouble climbing up behind him this time, since she was no longer wearing the Gondorian dress as before but her Rhun-style trousers. She held onto him tighter than she needed to, still desiring his warmth against her and still wanting to breathe in his scent. Legolas closed his eyes briefly as she first did this, joyful to feel needed in such a way.

"Where are we going?" she asked, as they trotted out of the stables and into the streets to descend to the first level.

"To the forests of Ithilien," he said to her, turning his head to the side, "I desire to see them with my eyes and to walk amongst them with you."

"Why is that?" she immediately gauged there was extended purpose to this trip.

He smiled at her, realizing she was not one who gave much allowance for surprises, "You will see," he preferred to leave her without an answer.

The white horse ran swiftly through the plains crossing several streams and riverbeds, small glens and meadows, before coming closer to their destination. Vezely rested behind him, enjoying the fresh spring air on her face and the added warmth of the sun on her back. Being free of the cage she was in and the city that put her there did much to mend her prior discomfort. The horse's gallop slowed upon the edge of the forest before entering under the green canopy in a quickened trot.

Legolas instantly felt calmed once surrounded by trees, desiring even more to be amongst them while in the White City. He hoped to find a glen where they could spend the afternoon talking and thus had the horse follow a small stream to find its source. Vez noticed his shift in emotions, and his wonderment, as he looked around at the scenery as they rode. Perhaps, she thought, the forest soothed her internally as well, though she was not accustomed to being in them in Rhun.

They stopped in a place where their horse could graze for the day. Vezely dismounted, followed after by Legolas, who took her hand and guided her to the edge of the brook. "Much of this forest has been ravaged by decades of war, but there is still beauty here, waiting to be found," he said enchanted by their surroundings.

Vezely smiled at his wonderment, for he seemed as a joyful child in this place. "The war is over, perhaps it will not be so difficult to discover in the near future," she replied considering, stopping beside him.

He smiled back at her, telling her his plans, "I discussed with Aragorn the possibility of tending this forest back to life, after returning home for a time."

"You should, if it brings you joy," she said pleasantly, watching as a duo of birds flew past them chirping. A moment later she added regretfully, "I heard from Gandalf about Mirkwood, it is as I feared," in regards to much of it being burnt down.

Legolas looked upon her, his eyes full of conviction, "But not to be mourned. The Shadow has been rescinded. Mirkwood will again be as it was when it was called Greenwood the Great, when my father and grandfather entered under its leaves, and when I was a child able to run through it without fear."

"Time heals everything," Vezely said quietly, walking closer to the edge of the brook, wondering if she would ever truly be free of the Shadow which ruled her life for so long.

"It does," Legolas said softly, noting her contemplation, "But even a short amount of time can change everything. We have not known each other for very long, Vezely, but already our lives are changed by our meeting each other again."

Vezely looked down at the water, suddenly desiring to apologize for the change she brought to his life since it seemed sadly less beneficial than what their relationship had done for her. But he didn't let her despair and took her hand, pulling her along to walk with him as he talked about the Two Trees of Valinor, and tale of Thingol who was motivated in the Great Journey by a desire to see the light of these trees again, until he found contentment in the light of Melian the Maia's face. He had not told her a story from Elvish history for some time, and Vez realized how much she enjoyed listening to him, for he certainly had the gift of oration.

"...They were from different worlds, as we are, and they found contentment in each other," he said taking both her hands.

She was surprised how he turned this love story of old into tale about them, "Can we truly find contentment?" she asked skeptical. She let go of his hands to sit down on a nearby grassy knoll, stretching her legs out below her. She looked over at him, hoping he would sit beside her. He obliged, taking her hand in his once he sat, his eyes inquisitive as she asked concerned, "You said something, 'if you have known' about my past, then you would not have..." She stopped unsure how to word it.

"I would not have fallen in love with you," he replied carefully, knowing it was a painful thing to have said, "One cannot know what would have been."

"I know, and I do not wish to predict us being on divergent paths, but I do not want you to think I deceived you, that I intentionally hid my past from you or acted differently to gain only favorable opinion. It is true what Gandalf said, I am a good liar, and I spent the past eighty years often pretending to be someone else. On missions for the resistance, I would take on different names, different pasts. It was necessary to be anyone but myself. The Blue Wizards believed I would find myself coming West since I could no longer hide from my past or my blood. I had to be Vezely, but knew not who that was anymore."

"I could sense you did not," he said with a small smile, "And it only made me more curious."

"You tried so hard to figure me out," she smirked slightly in remembrance.

He looked upon her warmly, "And even now you remain an anomaly."

She laughed, "And you remain just as odd to me," she revealed, lightly brushing her fingertips across the palm of his hand.

"Do I?" he inquired playfully, liking the sensation of her touch, "How so?"

She remained looking at his palm while trailing her fingers across it, saying carefully, "You still look upon me without hate. You still touch me, knowing that..."

He grabbed her hand firmly, causing her to stop her speech and look up at him, "Vezely," he spoke her name concerned for her emotions.

"I am ashamed," she added worried, "That I can never be someone properly suited for you in the eyes of your father and kin, or in your eyes," he shook his head though knew he couldn't deny her words, "And it angered you to hear the details of my past."

"It did. I did not expect an Elf to be capable of such cruelty," he replied truthfully, "And that you seemed unaffected, even by the harm done to you."

"It is because I refuse to be destroyed by it," she said adamantly, "It only fuels my future, as it always has. I suppose that was what I wanted to convey in sharing those details. That I have changed because my cause has changed."

"I believe in your convictions. You were prepared to ruin your restored reputation and sacrifice your freedom to save Lady Shelbi from possible injustice," he said encouragingly, realizing still it surprised him.

Vez shook her head, denying its importance, "I felt responsible for the girl's fate. The man who almost killed her was after me. I further put her in harm's way because I refused to give them my coin."

"Maybe so," he said carefully, "But taking the blame was a selfless act." She appreciated his words though she did not desire praise. "You have already done some good in your life, Vezely, I know it will continue."

"I am glad you believe so," she said hopeful. "But it is more than my convictions that offers concern," adding, "You will continue to find constant reminders that I am not of your world. I cannot deny this part of my character nor can you deny that the culture I was raised in appears uncouth and unsettling to Elvish eyes. Only six years of my life were spent under the leaves of Mirkwood. It perhaps gives me advantage in understanding your viewpoint, and a realization that my own is far removed," she looked down, "I do not know if we can reconcile this, despite our love."

"You speak not of us, but of my kin," he said knowingly, lifting her chin up gently, "I will always try not to judge you by these standards again. And I will handle my father and all others who might question our relationship. I only ask you be yourself."

She smiled slightly, adding what she believed were his thoughts, "Myself, but on my best behavior."

"Perhaps you should not go out gambling in the middle of the night," he added with a raised eyebrow.

"Fair enough," she said, her smile beaming.

"It is good to see you smile," Legolas noted, glad to be back aside her, "My heart could not take your contempt."

"I never hated you. My anger only hid my sorrow for having disappointed you," she confessed quietly. "I did not intend for our talk to lead in the direction it did, or into matters that puts into question our union. Legolas," she was unsure how to broach the subject again, "About the other men."

He looked away uncomfortable by it being mentioned, "You do not need to speak of it again."

"I am sorry it makes you uncomfortable, but I need you to know," she said, gently turning his face to hers with the hand he held there, "I have never given my heart to anyone. I have never fallen in love. And I have never cared for another as I care for you," her eyes were full of fear, "I yet desire to be your partner. I want to sleep in your bed. I do not want you to believe I think any less of their importance because of my past indiscretions."

He noted her worry, he took her hand away from his face and held it to his chest, "You did not know of the custom of our people so it was wrong of me to have placed those expectations on you," he said sincerely.

"But they are expectations," she said carefully.

He could not deny that they were and that this jeopardized the sanctity of their union, for a marriage to be sanctioned each had to be free of any other involvements. Such acts were literally unheard of in Elvendom. Only in the province of Men did they exist and even there a woman with such involvements would not be marriageable. Legolas attempted not to let his worries seep through but she knew he was struggling with it.

She added concerned, "Perhaps as I suggested before, it is best not to divulge our relationship to those who arrive for the coronation. To keep it a secret so you can avoid such troubles and when I am gone, well," she did not finish this sentence for it pained her to think of leaving him.

"I am not a good liar as you are, Vezely. My father will know even if I deny it," he said steadily, "And I do not desire to deny it. These expectations matter not."

"You are not a good liar," she smirked, seeing through his last words. "I know you are concerned about your honor," she knew how much emphasis he had put on having a proper courtship with her, now perhaps he even thought all of it was for folly. She looked up at him, saying his thoughts, "We will not be accepted by your kin, at least not officially."

"Does it matter?" he asked.

"It does," Vezely queried, "Not for my own reputation, but for yours."

"Like I said," he tried to assure her, "I will handle my father and my kin."

She knew it was unresolved, but she nodded to show she accepted his mission. Yet he had not given his true thoughts as to her past. She thought out loud, asking quietly, "Do you believe me? That I hold our relationship as important..."

He quieted her with his fingertips, "I do. And I should not be jealous of those before but..."

She looked at him surprised, after he removed his fingers, she said, "I would not think you have any reason to be jealous," internally wondering what it would be like to make love with the one who also had her heart. She then added considering, "You have already proven yourself a formidable warrior."

He lifted his eyebrows, "That matters?"

"Of course," she said boldly, "At Helm's Deep, you certainly peaked my interest. I would not desire you as I do if it did not." He blushed noticeably, causing her to wonder, "Is it improper?"

"No," he stammered, "Just to speak so freely of one's desires as you do."

Vezely shook her head, "The lords and ladies of the West are too proper. Having to extensively court each other, finding every excuse not to..."

Before she could finish her sentence, he had pressed his lips lightly upon hers, gently kissing her, his hand lightly touching her jaw line. He pulled away to look upon her, she was surprised by his act, as he expected, but he was not expecting her to reciprocate as she did. She pulled him in by his collar, kissing him gently at first but with a building intensity. She leaned into him, gently pushing him onto his back with herself positioned on top of him. Her hands were cupping his face, his roamed down her back. She pulled her lips away, and looked lovingly upon him, the tips of their noses touching. He was surprised she had pushed him down on the grass like that, and that he did not want her to stop; his thoughts going against his convictions for a proper courtship.

With a coy smile she politely moved herself off of him, lying on her side, her head propped up on her elbow, knowing the previous position was a bit intrepid since their physical relations have been mild. Their faces were still close, his arm yet around her. She trailed her hand from his cheek to rest on his chest, running her fingers over his tunic's silver clasp, smiling at him as she did, "I am not apologizing for my boldness, for I wanted to lay down with you on the grass," she said curious of his reply.

"I would never ask for such an apology," he said, pulling her closer to him and she rested her head on his shoulder. She closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth of his embrace. As he looked above to the light streaming in through the canopy, he felt completely content as did she. He said quietly, "Vezely, we can find contentment." She nuzzled closer to him as a silent means of agreeing.

They spent the rest of the day cuddled next to each other, content to listen to the sounds of the forest and breathe the scent of its woods. They would ride back to Minas Tirith at dusk; darkness haven fallen on the city as they ascended back to the sixth level. Each felt renewed by the trip, as it also renewed their relationship. Vezely requested they return to Ithilien again before long, and for Legolas, there was nothing he wanted more.

* * *

"You do not have to accompany me," Vezely remarked as she walked briskly by Legolas's side through the marketplace to the Rhunic specialty shop she had visited several days prior. She was returning there to purchase sadar oil for the Variag ritual to be performed by Remi that afternoon. Adding, "Remi is not trustworthy, but I do not believe him dangerous."

Legolas had desired to go with Vezely and her former resistance partner to the outside fields when performing the ritual. He had no trust for the man around her, and tried to play it off as simple curiosity, "I think you would prefer I accompany you rather than one of Faramir's guards," noting his undoubtedly correct belief that the Steward wouldn't deem their party of two worthy of being unaccompanied.

"True," she smiled, stopping in front of the small shop. She was not wearing her Gondorian dress or headscarf as she was the other day; instead she was dressed in clothes she had purchased from there, with her crimson headscarf only loosely positioned as a hood that she removed once entering. The city was already starting to receive guests for the coronation, dressed in their own foreign garbs that she became less concerned about her contrary appearance.

Entering the shop, she was greeted by the same old woman, "May I help you?" She would not have recognized Vezely as the same young woman if not for her wearing her shop's garments. Her mouth was agape upon realizing two Elves were in her humble store.

"Good morning," Vez greeted politely, "I must apologize for the other day. I appeared as someone else," she said, noting her surprise.

"I had no idea," she stammered wide-eyed, "And I thought it curious to have a young Gondorian woman in my shop, but an Elf, now two Elves."

"I was raised in Rhun and will be returning there shortly," Vez replied calmly, hoping the old woman would ease from her shock, "I was glad to purchase clothing better suited to my tastes..."

Legolas began looking through the store, curious of its exotic trinkets, spices, and garments, as Vezely inquired about the items she needed for the ritual, which the shopkeeper did carry and she went to the back of the shop to retrieve what was needed.

"Did you find something interesting?" Vez asked, looking at Legolas around the narrow corner.

"This color would suit you," he said, pulling a plum colored garment from the rack, not dissimilar in style from what she was wearing, though the tunic was longer, and the material of a higher quality brocade and more detailed stitching.

She wondered what he was getting at, saying unimpressed with it, "That is not an everyday garment."

"You will need something of the sort for the coronation, will you not?" he explained, not realizing he was reminding her of something discomforting.

"Oh that," she remarked biting her lip, not having thought about the need to dress up for the event, nor liking the thought of doing so. The only time she really dressed up was in full battle gear. Somehow he was not surprised by her reaction.

"Luckily I have a vile left," the shopkeeper called, hurriedly returning to Vez's side with a glass vile of sadar oil in her hand, "When the vandals entered, they unfortunately broke most of my glass items. Now," she wanted to wait to give the price, "Will there be anything else I can help you with?"

Vez hesitated before adding, "And this," she went to quickly retrieve the plum-colored garment Legolas had pointed to, caving into her partner's suggestion.

"Ah, that is a special one, for a special occasion, and it will look lovely on you," the shopkeeper said politely.

Vez cared not for having the fashion approval of either the shopkeeper or Legolas, but figured she better have something of her own accord to wear at the coronation or else they might stick her into another Gondorian gown.

Legolas had a self-satisfied look on his face while leaving, liking how she acquiesced to his suggestion, though she would never admit to doing so. Vez preferred not to say anything regarding it as they returned to the horse to descend down to the second level prisons.


	30. The Ritual

"Fair warning," Vez casually said to Legolas as they walked closer to the prisons, "Remi enjoys the sound of his own voice."

"You mean he is overly conversant?" Legolas verified.

"You could say that," Vez did not know whether she should be concerned about Legolas interacting with Remi. She suspected in their prior delicate conversation, the one where Legolas boldly asked what her past relationship with Remi entailed, that he held mild contempt for the man. It made her curious whether he desired attending this outing because he distrusted her with him or whether he just distrusted him. Vezely would not expect Legolas to be jealous, or find a need to be protective, so she was unsure of his angle. Yet she also worried that Remi, being an incessant talker, would mention something damning about her past that Legolas didn't already know. Yet she wondered why she worried, for Legolas had already been given enough of the horrific deeds of her past surely anything else wouldn't come as a surprise.

Faramir shifted his proud stance slightly, suddenly feeling uncomfortable when he saw the two Elves approaching. The Steward knew he had done wrong by convicting Vezely of the crime in the Dim Quarters, jumping to conclusions due to his own bias against her culture and growing grudge with her due to several contentious arguments. He never would have assumed she was selfishly protecting a young Gondorian woman of punishment. He had slipped and it made Aragorn concerned about how convictions were being handled in Minas Tirith. The Steward had spent the prior days in council with the soon-to-be king verifying laws and creating measures to ensure such instances didn't get handled similarly under his rule. While Aragorn never openly rebuked Faramir for his mishap, the young Steward felt irresponsible. He had never been a man who desired power; he more desired to prove himself in the eyes of his father as simply a capable man who was honorable and brave, even if he did not possess a warrior's heart like his older brother, Boromir. Being thrust into a stewardship role so quickly after the battle's end was unexpected, especially after living a life in his big brother's shadow. Perhaps he was too eager to show his capabilities. He did not know if he read Vez wrong, seeing how her company trusted her despite her barbarian tactics and roughness in character. Perhaps his bias against those from Rhun shined through, for all Gondorians held a deep mistrust along with their misunderstanding of Rhunic culture. Centuries of war will do that.

"Good morning," Faramir greeted them, though he seemed to be directing his pleasant greeting more to Legolas than to Vezely, adding, "I appreciate this being completed prior the arrival of more guests."

Remi, who stood nearby with a guard by his side, was eying down Vezely, curious as to how she got out of her previous predicament and to again be on neutral terms with the Steward. The Variag had been given a clean pair of trousers, a new shirt, and access to a razor to shave. He looked less like a prisoner, despite wearing iron cufflinks around his wrists.

Vez did not openly acknowledge the Variag's interest, replying to Faramir sarcastically, "Of course. Wouldn't want such heathen rituals to blacken the pristine reputation of your White City." Legolas held his tongue, knowing too well that Vezely did not get along with the Steward. He disliked her attitude but prohibited himself from getting involved in her quarrels. "And these will not be necessary," she said while pulling up on the chain connecting Remi's handcuffs before looking directly at the nearby guard, adding, "Neither is he."

Before Faramir could respond to contest, Legolas politely added, "I will accompany them to the fields. You will not need to worry."

Faramir relaxed his stance and un-narrowed his eyes, trusting the Elf-prince's word, "Very well," he replied curtly, motioning to the guard to remove Remi's cuffs. After he did, Remi remarked some choice words in Variag dialect before going to Vez's side.

Legolas exchanged a look of confidence with Faramir before following Remi and Vez as they departed on foot, with a long walk down to the first level and out the gates. Riding horses was out of the question for they could not trust that Remi wouldn't take off on his own accord.

Remi starred back at Legolas as he followed them, remarking in Easterling, "You have a body guard?"

"I do not," Vez replied bluntly in Westron, "And if you desire reply, speak Westron, otherwise expect silence," she was not about to allow Remi to make Legolas feel uncomfortable.

While slightly annoyed by the request, Remi acquiesced. He was not one to hold in his thoughts, going ahead and asking casually in Westron, "How did you do it?"

"Do what?" She raised one eyebrow.

"Go without punching that _yavonka_ in the face?" he said sardonically referring to Faramir.

Vez laughed slightly, turning her head to peer back at Faramir from the corner of her eye, saying amused, "I surprise myself sometimes."

"What did he say?" Legolas asked suspiciously, wondering the meaning of the foreign word but not desiring to speak directly to the man.

Remi piped in, stating to the Elf directly, "It is not translatable into Westron."

" _Yavonka_ ," Vez explained, "It is a term for men whose rank is based on blood heritage alone."

"You refer to Faramir?" Legolas replied with slight admonishment.

Remi chuckled slightly, before Vez explained still amused, "That's right and not as a term of endearment." Legolas looked at her with slight disappointment, leading her to reply to him in Elvish, "I do not have to like everyone."

Legolas shook his head but let it go, before Vezely realized she had not introduced the two to each other. "Legolas, you know Remi, and Remi, this is Legolas of the Woodland Realm. He is not my body guard, but he preferably takes the place of one of Faramir's guards who would've reported back everything we say or do to the Steward." She wanted to let Remi know he was there on her own account.

Remi nodded briefly in greeting, Legolas doing the same, both coldly so, as if each were silently displaying their animosity towards each other.

Being curious, Remi asked boldly, "How did an Elf find himself on this edge of the war? Should you not be in the north with the _others_?" Disdain dripped from his intonation of _others_.

Legolas picked up on his contempt, causing him to be uninterested in answering.

Vezely realized this and intervened quickly, "A small band of travelers from distant lands journeyed to Minas Tirith for a specific purpose. Legolas represented his people in this task." Remi picked up on some admiration in Vez's description. Deciding to change the topic to the current task, Vez spoke of the ritual, "I was able to find sadar oil, and birch wood has been piled for our use outside the gates." She pulled the small vile from her bag and handed it to him.

"Good," Remi said curtly, taking the vile and inspecting its quality, which surprised Vez. Realizing this he asked, "You probably do not expect me to take my role seriously?"

"Ha," Vez scoffed, "What makes you think that?"

He smirked, "You know well I never desired to continue my family's trade," he said speaking of some familiarity with each other. "Divinators are a rare breed," he began explaining for the interest of the other Elf, "You can only be one if you are born one, but to be one means giving up a chance to be a high ranking warrior."

Vez added starkly, "Even though it is often a commander's divinator who runs the show."

"Only if you are respected enough, most commanders hold less weight in reading omens these days," Remi verified.

She explained for Legolas who was listening confused, "In Khand, divinators are few in number and high ranked officials will patron one for spiritual purposes. For commanders, divinators are ceremonially consulted when planning battles, calling upon them to decipher omens and read the entrails of the night's kill to see what the next day's incursion might bring. If the omen is bad, plans change."

"You believe you can see the future?" Legolas asked skeptically.

Remi smirked, "I can read signs as all divinators are taught."

"And this is why the resistance sent you back to Khand?" Legolas inquired.

Remi nodded, "I was to be the divinator of a high ranked official. To acquire information to help that hopeless cause, but I unexpectedly crossed paths with Öldür," the mention of her former second in command peaked Vez's interest. "He was looking for an answer to his problem. So I read the stars and told him that his answer had no desirable scent and no recognizable taste, but was clear and certain as once before."

"That is not saying anything," Legolas stated bluntly, not thinking highly of the man's trade.

"What answer was he looking for?" Vez asked suspiciously.

"How to defeat you in battle?" he replied, knowing it would intrigue her. "He had just heard more rumors that you were alive and possibly with the resistance. It made him nervous and he was looking for divinators to read signs that would lead him to perfect strategy. I was brought before him and he liked what he heard. Afterwards, he made me his top divinator."

"That is a powerful position. I am not surprised you betrayed the resistance," Vez stated considering; not that she condoned what transpired but she couldn't deny if she was in similar path she wouldn't have done the same. She added, "And I know the answer he came to," knowing what the cryptic words formed in Öldür's mind.

"Ah, so you deciphered the riddle as he did. Great minds think alike," Remi said admiringly.

"It was _Castis_ , the poison I had devised using as a fear tactic when he was my second in command. Of course he would associate your words with it," she stated, shaking her head annoyed.

"You knew of this poison?" Legolas asked the man boldly, thinking he was responsible for almost killing Vezely on the fields they walked to.

"I am only a messenger," Remi was not deterred by his condemnation, "I had not heard of this specific poison beforehand, but the signs I read formed such words in my head and Öldür deciphered them as such."

"Typical story of divinators. They wash their hands of all blame but pull strings when it serves them," Vez stated bluntly.

Remi smirked, "That is not always the case especially in regards to commanders, where we simply have a ceremonial role."

"Except for Öldür," Vezely remembered, "He was unusually superstitious, desiring to consult a divinator before every move we made. He had a personal divinator by the name of Yorük," she said his name with spite, "Irrational prick interfered on enough occasions that I actually poisoned him. It was the first time I tried _Castis_. It has a different effect when ingested. It appeared he had eaten and died from spoilt food. Öldür never did find out what killed him," Vez seemed unfazed by this deed.

Remi mused, "Poor fuck. He was obviously not smart enough to know when to lay low. A good divinator does not overstep in delicate affairs."

Vez's eyes shifted to Legolas, who looked at her with consternation, as he asked confused, "I did not know this poison was once your own device."

Remi spoke proudly, "I heard you used in the Sera region, calling a truce in order to send enemies home only to die days later from mere scratches. They feared you as one would a demon."

Vez piped in an explanation, saying steadily, "Psychological warfare. Easterlings perfect it. I sought the region's submission and that is what I received through fear," she knew Legolas did not appreciate such tales.

But Remi continued his tales of misplaced admiration, "Regardless of your parting, Öldür spoke highly of your war intellect and skill in combat. Is it true you brought down the Three Brothers of the Ash Lands in a fight to the death?" he asked, as they rounded the corner into the former marketplace.

"Two, the third laid down his sword desiring to be spared," Vez said nonchalantly, trying to play down any praise.

"Ah, but you still had his head," Remi remarked knowingly.

"I had _all_ their heads," she said forthrightly with a slight smirk, a feat she was not ashamed to still be amused by. She was surprised Öldür still divulged these stories after all that transpired between them.

Remi started laughing, "I would have paid to bear witness."

Legolas was less than amused at their amusement.

"It was not a feat worth attendance," Vezely added a second later hoping to tell the truth of the tale, crossing her arms as they walked. "The three had gotten soft from the spoils of their victories and their egos had grown along with their bellies. In order to avoid the toil of gathering their troops, they simply assumed they could defeat me in hand-to-hand combat. I accepted, of course. One of them, the smarter of the three, undoubtedly planned all along to let his brothers fall before him," she added thinking it over, "He only proved himself unworthy of being spared." Relaying some context to Legolas, "The Three Brothers of the Ash Lands acquired their tri-empire in Far Rhun only after many years in stalemate. Neither could defeat the other on the field so they forged an alliance and conquered the outlying lands together, using their captives as slaves to build their castles and tend their crops. It may have been the one time when Sauron's army was responsible for securing the freedom of many. And I was seen as liberator," Vez remembered fondly.

"Öldür put it as you being worshipped as such," Remi said amused.

"Ah, he was amused by that. I was annoyed," Vez replied, her arms still crossed.

Legolas, although appalled wondered, "One could argue they were not better off, and you could have left them as slaves."

"A slave would rather fall on ones sword than fight for another with it. But give them freedom, and suddenly, they have a reason to fight," she said cunningly, "They were useless as slaves, but as willing recruits to their new liberator, they held purpose."

"Smart and deadly," Remi mused, "A rare combination in women these days."

"Don't be so sure," Vezely replied dryly.

Legolas was surprised by their banter; discussing topics of murder, decapitation, and warfare with amusement while to the ears of an Elf they would cause disquiet and despair. Vezely's casualness around the man also displeased him. When at first the two re-met at the prison, she had desired to kill him for his betrayal of the resistance, and now she seemed perfectly comfortable and almost friendly around him. He also disliked how Remi spoke admiringly of her past foul deeds, and that such talk easily captured Vez's candid replies. She didn't seem to hold back any information that she may have when speaking to him about such topics. Not that he hadn't witnessed this side of her character prior. He knew her manners were Easterling, but a full display of this attitude towards such subjects unsettled him.

They had left the city's gates, which had remained open since war's end to welcome all guests who would be arriving for the coronation. It was the first time Vezely had walked back upon the fields she fought and fell on. They each picked up some bundles of birch wood, which Vez had piled off on the side wall earlier in preparation, before walking further out on the field.

"You and Öldür were close then?" Vezely asked Remi as they walked.

"He counseled with me often and drank with me even more so," Remi replied.

"He always did enjoy his drink," Vez thought back to the man's intake of Dorwinion wine and Khand dark ale.

"He was not in a good place, mentally, when he heard that you might be working for the resistance," Remi added thinking back, "He would talk freely about you when he got drunk thus I now know quite a lot about the Destroyer of Nations." Vez shot him an annoyed glare. "The man once cared for you quite deeply, actually. He perhaps even felt mild remorse for his misdeeds, taking your legions and all," then clarifying, "But only when he was drunk, of course."

Vez was not fazed by hearing this, and she shifted her gaze farther afield, "I killed Öldür over there. It was not a quick death or a respectful one," she added steadily, "For he held his bowels in his hands as I slit his throat. I am glad to know I also haunted his dreams for sometime before that."

"Vezely," Legolas said wide-eyed, completely off-put by her evil words and thoughts.

Her eyes went to his, realizing they held surprise and disappointment. Vez swallowed what spit was in her mouth uncomfortably, noting she had let the conversation stray slightly into what appeared as her boasting about her past violence. She had not thought it wrong to banter on about such subjects in casual conversation, for warriors often bragged about kills, but perhaps an Elf would not do so for they held a deep respect for life. She knew this, but somehow it didn't sink into her way of acting, especially when interacting with someone from her adopted culture. Such words flowed from her tongue without thought to whose ears they would enter and possibly upset.

"The man got what was coming to him," Remi added gauging the field with his eyes, somewhat curious by the Elf's outburst and Vez's reaction to it, "I read his death in the ashes of his campfire the morning before the battle." Remi knelt down, grabbing a fist of soil in his hand and allowing it to filter slowly from it back to the ground.

Vez did not respond to Legolas or Remi, and instead moved her eyes back to the field. Upon realizing where they stood, Legolas stated solemnly, "A mass grave," his eyes also scanning the far section of the field as Vezely's was. One could easily tell the soil had been uplifted not long ago and undoubtedly the bodies of thousands of dead Southrons and Variags lay below it. The Gondorians had burned the bodies of the orcs, as was customary, while burying the men, even though most Rhunic cultures practiced cremation.

Vez's heart sank, finding the immensity of the field staggering and relaying the numbers in her head of not only the Variags and Haradrim which lay there, but the Easterlings in the northeast who fought to the death at the foot of the Lonely Mountain. Sauron promised the people of Rhun the lands to the West, but instead those lands became their eternal resting place, and she had a hand in coercing Rhun's people to accept this promise.

Remi chanted some verses before standing up, taking the birch wood aside him and forming a small pyre. Vezely did the same with hers, spacing it several meters out from the other, forming several more pyres along the field where the men were buried underneath. Legolas observed their labor, noting Vezely's solemn emotions and the rhythms she went through, suspecting she had done this ritual before. Remi would then go and sprinkle dots of sadar oil onto the wood, saying a few verses in his dialect as he did before lighting the one pyre on fire using flint that had been brought. The wind was lightly blowing, making the fire dance and crack through the wood and oil, the latter producing a blue tint to the flames. Both he and Vezely would light the rest of the pyres using wood lit by the flames of the first one.

Remi chanted more verses as Vezely stood aside him gazing out on the field, and unexpectedly to Legolas, she began to sing. He had never heard her sing before and while her voice held Elvish qualities, she did not sing as an Elf did nor did the words she formed sound as pleasing as Elvish verses. There was a unique undulation to the way she sung the foreign words. They seemed to catch the wind and float away with it; the sound was haunting to him.

Vezely sang a common warrior's burial song in Rhun, one which had some variation throughout the land's cultures but stemmed from a single source - a song which spoke not of enemies or victors, but of the great equalizer Death and of the honor to have met him in battle. It was a song of respect and remembrance.

She had song it before, at battle's end when many men were lost. As a former general, she always regretted needlessly losing men. It was her utmost responsibility to keep her numbers consistent, so she was methodical about maneuvers and tactics. It was a numbers game, as Legolas damningly called her war statistics, but for her it was about keeping from needing to burn massive pyres of bodies or dig large graves, at least for her own men. Long ago she helped lead her adopted people, the Balchoth, to their death on the fields on Rohan. She never wanted to make that mistake again and it drove her responsibility as a general of Sauron's legions. Her men were important to her even if she was cruel to her enemies. Thus, when gazing out upon these death fields, it stirred past emotions of regret and failure. She finished her song; her voice intrepid against the winds which had picked up force causing the flames to lick higher. She closed her eyes, not expecting a small tear to fall from one, only to have the wind dry it as if fell down her cheek.

She removed the dagger from her bag and handed it to Remi, who took it carefully from her. Legolas did not expect Vezely to freely arm the man and he grew weary and kept his eyes locked on his every move. Remi spoke words to the weapon, touched the blade to his forehead, and then turned and spoke to Vezely in more words Legolas could not understand.

"It should be you who does the honor," he said to Vez offering her the dagger, "As standing general, it is custom."

She hesitated slightly, not knowing if it was entirely proper, but agreed. She took the 'blessed' dagger from his hand and held the blade to her other palm, slicing it, not flinching as it separated her flesh. She squeezed her fist and let the blood drip from it onto the soil.

"Blood to honor blood," she spoke proudly in Easterling, "To live as a warrior is to have honor. To die in battle is to have earned respect as one. May your ancestors embrace you and may those who live envy you. Blood to honor blood."

"Blood to honor blood," Remi repeated, bowing his head after.

She had not spoken these words in a long time; they were a transcultural eulogy a general spoke at war's end over all the bodies that were lost, comrade or foe. It would be done in front of the surviving victors, to give them strength to persevere. That was why it was important; not for the dead, but for the living, to hold them in solidarity as warriors bound to contract to keep fighting. Despite the absence of troops there now, it still felt important and right to say. It was as if she was back in those boots, doing her duty as commander, showing respect for the dead, holding regret for having lost men, but having strength to continue her path with those still of this world. It made her feel honorable again, as a leader should feel; even if before her honor could easily be put into question.

"It is heavy burden to gaze at war's end and weigh bitter cost of it," she spoke in Westron after a prolonged moment of silence.

Remi placed a hand on her shoulder, replying steadily, "Rhun will persevere."

She looked at him curiously, somewhat surprised to find the same hope in his eyes as she had. Perhaps the man had a sliver of care for his homeland. "It will," she replied with a small nod.

Legolas did not know what to make of this odd ritual, for it was far removed from Elvish customs. Burials were quiet affairs. They did not burn fires or spill blood but sing soft hymns while others kept silent in remembrance. Dared he think what he just witnessed was slightly barbaric.

Vezely walked back over to Legolas's side; he had a quizzical look on his face, still milling over what had transpired, "We can return now," she said to him softly, "These fires will burn the wood to piles of ash that will then scatter across these fields. It will be enough to appease the living that their fallen comrades were respected in death."

Legolas nodded before removing a clean handkerchief from his tunic's side pocket and taking Vezely's cut hand in his. She smirked slightly at the fact he had carried one, though she did appreciate his caring, gentle touch, for he had done this before when she cut her knuckles by hitting Yaban's face. He wrapped it around, wondering if she cut too deep and if it would be in need of stitches. She seemed less than concerned that it was still bleeding, however.

"Was this necessary?" he asked carefully in Elvish, not desiring for Remi to understand their personal conversation.

Vez smirked, noting now he had not expected the ritual to involve shedding blood and especially not her own. She repeated again the phrase she spoke, but translated into Elvish, "Blood to honor blood. We would also sacrifice animals and then feast and drink to their honor, but this will have to suffice."

 _Sacrifice_ , the word itself sounded uncivilized to him, he then let go of her hand and she smiled slightly in thanks for his wrapping.

"Let's go," she called to Remi, turning from them to return to the city gates. The man appeared to be looking back on the field, though he was contemplating the interaction between the two.

Remi would walk past Legolas and give him a stern glare, one the Elf returned in kind before each returned to the main thoroughfare that led into the city.

Vezely asked Remi, "Has there been any mistreatment of the men?" She was curious how the prisoners were being handled and wanted to take this opportunity to speak to one of them in private.

"No," Remi replied truthfully, "The guards continue their usual banter, but none of their actions require reprimand. Though," he paused considering how to phrase his words, "The men do grow restless with each other. You may have a mutinous bunch on your hands before we even leave the gates," he then added hopeful, "But the Captain has resolve to hold us together."

Vezely was afraid of this, and part of her wondered whether it would be wise to leave sooner than waiting for the coronation; even though several prisoners needed the extra weeks to heal, especially those with broken bones. Then she wondered whether certain prisoners were making plans, "Do you suspect splintering groups?"

"Hard to tell," Remi replied considering, "Much goes on in the dark corners of that prison."

"I ask you keep your eyes and ears attuned to such activity. If Rhun is to persevere, we all need to make it back there alive, and in solidarity," she said in hopeful confidence.

Remi nodded, intrigued to be given such a delicate request.

As Vezely was concerned, so too was Legolas, for she would be leaving with these troops and if they were unstable and were to revolt, she may never make it back to Rhun to complete her path of redemption.

Upon entering the prison grounds, they were again greeted by Faramir, "Lady Vez, if I can have a word," he inquired, leading her down the corridor away from Remi and Legolas. "I have received your request for supplies from Aragorn, it is very thorough." Vezely had devised a list of items that she suspected to need on the journey back to Rhun. They would not be able to make it safely across the borders if they had nothing but the clothes on their back.

"It is the minimal," Vez replied, "I seek to avoid my men taking what they need along the way." She knew Faramir was concerned her troops would rape and pillage in Ithilien before crossing the borders into Rhovanion.

"It is reasonable. I also noted you do not request weaponry," he said wondering.

"I thought that would be overstepping. Though for hunting purposes, I considered requesting a few bows and arrows," she replied politely.

He nodded, "I see that as reasonable, as are the other items."

Vezely was surprised the man was suddenly being agreeable to her demands, "It would be appreciated. And perhaps when I return, I will be able to repay the city for its hospitality."

Faramir queried, "Is it your plan to return?" Faramir did not know the full extent of her future path; though he overheard that she was barred from crossing the sea into the Utter West due to her past crimes.

"It is," she replied steadily, holding her head slightly higher, "I desire to leave these lands alongside my kin, when I am permitted to..."

While Vezely was preoccupied with Faramir, Remi used the respite as an opportunity to speak with the Elf, saying slyly, "She is the perfect woman is she not? Strong, ruthless, cunning, beautiful. I am very much looking forward to the journey home, to spend more time with her."

Legolas internally queried the man's objective in trying to spark conversation with him, narrowing his eyes on his he warned, "You would be wise to keep your distance."

He raised an eyebrow, "Now why would I want to do that?"

"She is spoken for," Legolas stated strongly, hoping to imply they were in a relationship.

"No one speaks for Vezely but Vezely," Remi added disdainfully, now realizing the two were involved. Then adding amused, "You think you know her, yet you know nothing of Rhunic culture. Nor do you have any respect for the general she is. When she leaves this land you will become nothing but a faded memory. A weakness she doesn't need," then laughing, he added, "And I will be the one to keep her bed warm."

Legolas grabbed him by the collar; a second more and he would not have hesitated throwing his fist in his face, but Faramir and Vezely were returning. Faramir asked from afar, "Is there a problem?"

"Is there?" Remi stated undeterred under the Elf's grip and glaring eyes, keeping his demeanor cool and collected.

Faramir commanded his guard to take Remi away, and before leaving them, he said to Vezely with confidence, "We will discuss this topic more later."

Vez looked at Legolas, whose anger had not subsided from the prior incident, asking curiously, "What did he say?"

Legolas did not reply as he tried to settle his emotions, not looking at her, instead watching the man fade down the corridor. Vez smirked. She was amused he could be riled at all and to act in a way that was more becoming of her. She grabbed his hand and interlinked her fingers with his, saying with some care, "You should not take anything he says seriously."

Her touch was enough to pull his eyes to hers, "I do not like his manner around you."

"Nor do I, but he is not a threat," she said carefully, squeezing his hand slightly, "To me or to us."

He breathed in deeply, trying to regain his composure.

"I need to talk briefly with the Captain," Vez said, smiling softly at him, "Then we can have the whole day to ourselves." Her words were enough to elicit a smile from him; he knew she was offering them as added comfort before leaving him in the same direction they took Remi.

The man's words honestly stung Legolas. It was true, he did not understand Rhunic culture or hold respect for the general she was, and he still misunderstood the general she sought to be. Reconciling their stark differences was trying, and to have this man point these issues out to him did not help the situation. He also realized Remi's ignoble objectives in regards to his partner. It was unlikely they would be married before her departure, and while he trusted their bond, he realized his paucity of knowledge on Rhunic relationships and what they cordoned off in regards to physical relations with others. He felt uncomfortable even thinking about such topics, but knew they needed to be discussed.

His father and kin would arrive in Minas Tirith in a few days time, along with other members of the Elven Delegation hailing from Rivendell and Lothlorien. The anticipation was both one of joy and discomfort. He was joyful to again see and be around those who were close to him, to share his own stories and hear their tales of victory in the war now over; but he would also be announcing his betrothal - and one unexpected if any announcements had been made or rumors had circulated regarding the alliance his father and Lord Celeborn sought to make by matching him with Lady Adele. It had become too late to send his father a return letter, in which he would have told him that he heard the call of the sea and desired to leave these shores with Vezely by his side, while making clear his disinterest in marrying Lady Adele. Now he would have to relay all this to him in person, as well as other information: that his bride-to-be was barred from passing into the Utter West anytime soon and the indecencies of her past called into question any official union they would seek to have. He feared disappointing his father, who would undoubtedly see such obstacles as heartbreaking and possibly damaging for his son. Legolas feared it may lead his father to harbor contempt for the one he loved. In a few days time, the situation in Minas Tirith would grow increasingly delicate, that he could only think he better enjoy the next few days where Vezely and him truly had time to themselves.

* * *


	31. Elvish Ethics

Vezely gently and slowly ran the tips of her fingers down the length of the gown's long skirt, which she hung from the door of her room's empty wardrobe. The fabric held a softness she was not accustomed to; a delicacy she would not freely choose as a covering for her body - a body of a warrior.

She had almost forgotten to remove the newly purchased garment from its brown packing paper when Legolas and her road back up to the guest villa after the burial ritual and her brief meeting with the Captain that morning. She returned to her room, while Legolas went to meet with Aragorn and Gimli to discuss matters involving the imminent arrival of guests. It was important that Aragorn, himself, and Gimli be prepared to mediate the council with not only the Elven Delegation, but the ambassadors from Dale and the dwarves from Erebor, since they would also be in attendance, along with Eomer and his advisors from Rohan. The crowning of the king was a pivotal turning point in the history of Middle Earth, and Aragorn would have these meetings duly organized in order to glide everyone into an era of extended peace. There would be a number of powerful leaders in attendance, especially from Elvendom: Elrond from Rivendell, Celeborn from Lothlorien, and Thranduil from Mirkwood. While the Elves would be using Minas Tirith to also hold their own Elf-only councils, for the Elves were going through their own period of transition, their interaction with men and dwarves was also critical, especially now that Sauron's presence and territorial inroads were rescinded.

Vez understood this was a pivotal moment for the West, yet it was even more critical for Rhun and she hoped she would be permitted to discuss certain matters with these various ambassadors, in particular those from Dale and Erebor who actually fought against the Easterlings in the north. She needed to know the number of causalities, and whether any retreated or were released and returned to Rhun. The Easterling Coalition was composed of a vast number of clans, whose homelands were spread out in various corners of Rhun from the Eastern borders of Rhovanion to Far Rhun; a coalition she helped forge through her own engagements as a general. While the Coalition had a marked solidarity in fighting style, armor, and weaponry, and all had pledged allegiance to the Dark Lord under one Easterling banner, they maintained their regional cultures, dialects, and customs. Because of this, the Coalition had always been susceptible to fragmentation and Vezely had suspicions of deserter clans who would easily take advantage of Sauron's defeat in order to return and claim a land now vacant of most of its militia.

On top of this, Remi's information about dissent amongst the Variag prisoners had her less than assured about making it back to Rhun peacefully. While the Captain told her not to worry, that he would hold the group together before their release, she suspected a coup was waiting to happen. Perhaps she would be challenged for leadership before they would leave for Rhun, and if challenged should she heed the call and fight the challenger to the death, as expected of one in command. Should she spill more Rhunic blood on Western soil? _If it comes to that_ , she thought darkly, narrowing her eyes. Dressing up for the Coronation seemed the least of her worries at this point.

Her eyes moved from the dark plum-colored fabric to the white linen wrapping tied around her cut left hand, causing her thoughts to shift endearingly of Legolas bandaging it for her earlier that morning. She was not accustomed to being cared for as such, or with so tender a touch as his that she felt smitten just thinking about it. The reminder gave some peace to her troubled thoughts. And instead of staying in her room, she headed to the kitchen hall, knowing the hobbits would be enjoying what they called a "second breakfast." For some reason, she enjoyed being around the hobbits, there was something about their carefree nature which calmed her so she made it a point to join them in the mornings for breakfast or second breakfast when she could.

* * *

Sam meticulously cut into his thick slice of ham, carving a perfect bite-sized piece, doing the same to his fried egg. He stacked each on his fork and brought it to his mouth with anticipation, "You know, I quite missed the taste of fried eggs and ham," he said elated, his mouth yet full.

Frodo rounded the table with an equally decked out plate, grabbing one of the blueberry scones piled high in a basket at the table's center, "After lembas almost everyday, anything tastes good," he said cheerfully, grateful to be out of the infirmary and back in the company of close friends.

Merry and Pippin were also seated at the table. Pippin was slathering a scone in clotted cream and raspberry preserves, while Merry was finishing his first glass of fresh squeezed orange juice. "Don't remind me of lembas," Merry warned playfully, after swallowing a big gulp and wiping his mouth off on his sleeve.

Pippin added, "Ya know, if you stretch your imagination, lembas almost taste like these scones, but without the blueberries, clotted cream, and preserves."

Frodo laughed slightly, "I think that's taking out the best parts."

Merry added, "Leaves you just with the dough."

Pippin shrugged before taking another bite of his loaded scone.

"Now we shouldn't be putting down lembas," Sam lectured them while slicing another piece of ham, "It did get us through some rough patches on our journey. We were lucky the Elves provided us with so much." They all nodded to agree, "And I for one will be thanking them again for it when they arrive in Minas Tirith."

"As we all should," Frodo added in support of Sam's suggestion with a small smile.

"I heard they will be here in a few days," Pippin stated with wide eyes, knowing it was news to discover they were close by.

"We should feel quite lucky to be in the company of Elves once again before we return home," Sam added optimistically.

Vez was at the kitchen counter, milling through a large basket of fruit overhearing their pleasant conversation. She decided on a red apple and went to sit on the edge of the long table where the four hobbits were conversing, "But you are in the company of Elves," Vez said casually with a smirk before taking a bite of her apple.

"No offense, Miss Vez," Sam started judiciously, "But you are quite different from the Elves we've spent time with in Rivendell and Lorien."

Vez knew this had to be true, but she was all too curious to hear his description of Elves, for she was curious herself. So she prodded him, "How so?" Her words were mumbled from still chewing on her first bite of apple.

"For one thing, Elves of Lorien and Rivendell do not sit on the edges of tables or speak with their mouths full," Sam spoke as a matter of fact, not implying it as a form of critique, however. Though the words did cause Vez to quickly swallow what she was chewing, smirk at him devilishly, and slide herself onto the bench to sit properly next to Frodo, who smiled at her amused by her reaction.

"And what else?" she asked hoping he'd continue.

"They all wear long robes and have long hair and they walk as if they are gliding on the air beneath them," a string of facts which caused Vez to nod in agreement, knowing she only wore trousers, her hair was uncannily short, and she walked no different than any man did. Then Sam added, "But they be a lot harder to talk frank with, if you know what I mean."

"I think Sam is implying you are easier to talk to," Frodo added a second later; an assertion Vez had not heard before.

"Yes, yes you are Miss Vez, which makes you quite a surprise for an Elf and all," Sam said defending himself against any possible incursion on disrespect.

"I have not been in the company of Elves so I wouldn't know what surprise I hold. But I suppose Elves are a bit removed from hobbits, dwarves, or men," Vez said considering.

"Hobbits are simple folk," Sam clarified.

"Boring is more like it," Merry added, noting he was both excited to return home, while at the same time disheartened that his adventure was at an end.

"You four are far from boring," Vez replied with a smile, before taking another bite of her apple.

"Can't say the same about my ol' gaffer," Sam stated bluntly, "He's about as interesting as watching paint dry on a wagon cart on a long summer afternoon."

"Those Elves aren't going to be staying here, are they?" Pippin interrupted, suddenly wondering.

"Well it is the guest villa Pip, unless Aragorn is letting them stay in the king's private quarters or out in town, I don't imagine they'd stay anyplace else," Merry replied, though none of them knew.

"From what I heard from Legolas, they'll be taking over the East Wing of the villa," Vez relayed this information.

"The whole East Wing?" Pippin queried.

"Not sure, but the dwarf ambassadors from Erebor were decidedly put in the West Wing. I suppose to avoid any difficulties," Vez said shrugging her shoulders.

"They'll flip when they find out about Gimli and Legolas's friendship," Merry added, knowing about the rivalry between Elves and Dwarves, having witnessed it at Rivendell at the council and between Legolas and Gimli at the start of their journey.

"There is that, isn't there?" Vez thought out loud appearing unconcerned, though secretly wishing this friendship would cause more of a stir than her own relationship with the Mirkwood heir. She did not want to openly show any discomfort of the approaching changes in the villa's population, but meeting other Elves, and all presumably High Elves considering their position as delegates, as well as Legolas's father, King Thranduil, unnerved her.

"Well, I just hope they don't eat all the scones," Pippin said grabbing another one quickly as if they would disappear if he didn't...

* * *

"Lady Vez," a house maid called, stirring Vez from her thoughts as she gazed out on the surrounding vista the terrace provided. "Lord Legolas has requested that you meet him in the East Wing, if you would kindly follow me."

Vezely followed closely behind the house maid as she led her through villa's corridors, not having expecting the invitation. The East Wing's spacious courtyard and hallways were decorated similarly to where she was staying, but the distance between the doors to each private room were set further apart, so she assumed each room was more spacious. The house maid led her to an open door, and she stepped into it suspecting to find Legolas inside, though she found an empty room, modestly adorned but with a prime focal point - a spacious open balcony.

"What do you think?" Legolas asked coming quietly in the door behind her, causing her to quickly turn around.

"Think of what?" she asked, smiling from just the sight of him, while also trying to hide the fact that she was caught unaware by his quiet entrance. Legolas amusingly acknowledged his ability to still sneak up on her.

"This will be my father's room," he said taking her by the hand and leading her to the open balcony upon which a perfect view in front of the city was laid out before them; a view not provided over on their wing. One could look out towards the mountains of Mordor, but no longer did fire and smoke occlude the blue skies above it; instead, it appeared as if Sauron never had his lair there. She then noticed a small table had been set with wine and two glasses upon it. "I figured we could enjoy this view before it is occupied."

She smiled widely, surprised by his slyness, being told his whole afternoon would be mired in meetings. "I like the sound of that," she replied, not removing her hand from his as she moved closer to the balcony's stone railing. She could see what was once a battlefield below, noting that the pyres her and Remi lit that morning were extinguished, the cedar ashes scattered by the winds across the mass grave they walked upon. She turned to him and took his other hand in hers, her eyes accidentally diving into his blue orbs, finding the feelings his returned gaze evoked surreal.

Being touched by her bandaged hand, reminded him of the wound she self-inflicted that morning, an act that still made him uncomfortable. He lifted it and turned her palm upward, peeking under the linen to inspect the wound.

"You do not need to tend to me," she said with a half smile.

"If I do not, who will?" he replied, noting she had not bothered to change his impromptu bandage from that morning.

She didn't reply immediately, not being one to accept the kindness of others easily. The Blue Wizards tended to her and she still did not know how to show appreciation. "I know well enough not to cut too deep," she finally added, politely removing her hand from his, "It will heal in a few days."

"You have done this often?" he asked, looking at her curiously.

"I have been in enough battles whose ends required it," she replied steadily, looking back to the view below, her eyes being drawn to the mass grave once more. "It is for the living," she stated in explanation to what she realized must have been a bizarre ritual to his eyes, "To reassure them of their charge as warriors, to not mourn the dead, but to respect them, to respect that they died with honor, with a sword in their hand as a warrior should," she then scoffed and narrowed her eyes, getting slightly angered believing such words herself, "But what honor is there in dying for Sauron? This whole war has been fought on a false promise. One I was once blinded by."

He placed a hand lightly on her shoulder, causing her to turn her head to him, "What choice did Rhun have?"

"None," the word finding her tongue quickly, knowing too well, "My sword has tasted the blood of many who believed otherwise." She turned around and leaned against the railing, and smiled slightly ashamed, "Apologies, I doubt you sought my company for more dark conversations of my past."

"On the contrary," Legolas said consolingly, noting that it comforted him to hear her admit to being wrong, for recently he heard her provide too many rationalizations to her past actions. "I desire nothing but you to speak to me from the heart."

She placed her hand on top of the one he yet had resting on her shoulder, "You are perhaps the only one who I would do so with," she then looked from the corner of her eye to the field below, as if it was a magnet to her thoughts, "But it surprised you, this ritual?"

"Perhaps," he said, slowly removing his hand from her shoulder and going over to the table to pour some wine, "But then again, it is always unexpected with you."

"A truism since we met," she replied holding her head a little higher to disallow her from sighing in despair, "But everyday we are closer to understanding each other, are we not?" Her voice wavered slightly.

Legolas handed her a filled glass, "We are," he confirmed, though uncertain himself with the questions he continued to mill through.

"To progress then," Vez stated with a brief smile, raising her wine glass to his in order to encourage a toast.

But before he mirrored her actions he added, "To love, that needs not be understood."

There was a pause before she brought the glass to her lips, as she thought as he did that perhaps for them, not understanding was truly the only solution to their differences. Once there, she immediately recognized the scent of the wine. The pungent fragrance brought back memories that forbid her to drink it at first, but she forced herself to tip the glass and allow some of the red liquid to enter her mouth; the sickly sweet taste all too familiar. "Dorwinion," she stated after swallowing, trying to appear unaffected by the thoughts the wine sent coursing through her, though she was sure her reaction elicited attention.

Legolas had taken a sip and recognized her hesitation, "It is my father's preference. I made sure several shipments were reserved for when he is in residence here. It is not of your liking?"

"On the contrary, I used to like it way too much." She took another sip, disallowing this part of her past to intrude her progress moving forward. "The Blue Wizards also hold preference for Dorwinion wine. It is of well-repute in Rhun."

"As it is in Mirkwood, or _Eryn Lasgalen (Wood of Greenleaves)_ as it is now named," he corrected himself, a smile showing he was reflecting on the positive transition and re-growth his home forest would soon go through.

Vez put the glass down on the table, "Eryn Lasgalen," she repeated, tracing the glass's rim with her finger, not having heard the realms new name yet, "Perhaps I will see it when its leaves are truly green again," her words trailed slightly while starring at the red liquid inside.

"This wine has stirred memories?" Legolas queried softly.

She looked over at him, realizing she had drifted slightly away from the conversation. She breathed in the crisp air deeply, "It has, but more so a reflection on how far I have come. I have not talked much about my time in captivity or immediately after when Dorwinion wine was the only comfort I sought." Uncomfortable memories from this time had re-surfaced since being held prisoner for suspicion of murdering that man in the Dim Quarters. "I drank to forget that which the Blue Wizards forced back into my mind, to erase acknowledgement of what happened that put in that cell, of my defeat, the loss of my army, of my worthlessness," she then smiled slightly amused, "I remember thinking it was only a matter of time before they handed me over to the West, perhaps even to your father who'd have my head if he were kind."

"You believed you were saved from the dungeons of Dol Guldor only to be executed?" he asked confused.

"Saved by my enemies who would suddenly show me mercy?" She smirked, "Mercy was not an act I understood." He placed his glass down next to hers and moved beside her, her eyes getting caught in his as he did, "Would he?" she asked curiously, trying to address a new topic of interest, "Would your father have had my head?"

He looked at her as if he didn't understand the question, "Of course not," he stammered out, "He is not that kind of king."

"Then what kind of king is he?" she asked, desiring to know more about his father and about Elven rulers before his arrival.

"One that is fair, wise, and beloved by his people," Legolas listed his father's noble attributes; he was a good leader, a just king, as his grandfather Oropher, before him. "And he makes the right choices, even if they are difficult ones. He did once save your life, and release you despite your deeds," he reminded her of the incident in Mirkwood over 500 years ago.

"If not for Elrond's prescient request," Vez corrected him, knowing her kin held part in Thranduil showing her mercy.

"He would not have let an Elf perish on the ground in front of us," Legolas stated, noting her eyes showed skepticism after he did; and perhaps he didn't believe what he said either. Had he not also desired her death, as retribution for the deaths of his fellow guards whose blood stained the sword that lay beside her?

"It was the most irrational decision I made, attacking your Woodland Guard," she said raising an eyebrow, catching Legolas off-guard with the assertion. "You may not agree with my methods as a general, but they always involved putting the lives of my men first. That day in Mirkwood I did not do that. Anger lingered from my defeat at the Battle of the Wold and I overestimated the resolve of my troops against yours. A decision which led to their deaths, and then I was saved by the very people I ordered them to attack. It was a humbling moment for me, and I left Mirkwood vowing to never put my emotions before reason."

"Reason?" He repeated, unsure of her understanding of it; he started to ask, "Your reason rationalizes..."

"Deeds which would be questionable to Elvish ethics," she concluded what he was beginning to say, "I know. To kill one or a handful of men in cold blood order to save the lives of hundreds or possibily thousands, I would do so without hesitation."

"And you would still continue to boast about it," Legolas said concerned; desiring for her to explain her banter with Remi earlier that morning.

"You speak of what you heard this morning? Perhaps of the divinator I poisoned?" She felt as if she could read his mind, knowing remnants of that morning's conversation would linger to later become moments of contention. "It was not only out of contempt that I killed that man. It was winter, snow was beginning to fall and I knew if we did not leave our current location soon, we would not make it through the mountain pass of Kazakyun and my men would freeze to death. For two weeks the man's predictions convinced Öldür and half my army who placed weight in such omens that we should not march. But I would not wait any longer or take more unfounded advice from a man who I suspected had ulterior motives," she then added unconcerned, "And being resourceful, I tried out that poison on him."

Legolas shook his head, for he could sense she held little remorse for this act; that she could too easily excuse her actions via a skewed rationale. "Reasonable to you, but to an Elf it does not appear so. There are always other options besides killing without true provocation." She looked at him, her eyes in contemplation, uncertain if she believed this. He added carefully, "I confess, part of me desired your death upon seeing you, fallen from your horse with my kinsmens' blood staining your clothes and the blade of the sword you tried to grasp onto. You and your men killed ten Woodland guard, each one well-known to me. And then to discover that an Elf did this," he paused looking away, saying with regret, "There has not been Elves killing Elves since the First Age...The kinslayings are a black stain on our history, but by knowing about them we are reminded that one should not take life unnecessarily, especially not for trivial desires like gold or revenge. Even without Lord Elrond's plea for your protection, I do not believe my father would have let a Elf die in front of us. Only evil deserves to be extinguished, and that divinator you poisoned, perhaps he had ulterior motives, but I doubt he was truly evil, and you, you were not evil, only misguided."

"You would not say the same about Orcs," she smirked slightly, trying to appear unmoved, though feeling ashamed for not perfectly subscribing to similar ethics.

"Orcs are not the same. They are soulless creatures whose only intent is to destroy for the whims of their master," Legolas verified, for his kill count of Orcs far surpassed hers.

"And I destroyed for the same master's whims," she responded undeterred in making this connection, "I _was_ evil, deserving of extinguishment. Perhaps not when I laid on the ground dying in Mirkwood. Then I was as you said before, only a child to Elvish eyes, and my crimes were yet meager. But your father was still kind to uphold his code for me."

 _Evil_ , yes, she would become truly evil, Legolas thought, and evil enough to warrant her death.

She continued, now worried her frankness made her appear to lack remorse when this was not the case. "I may rationalize some of my past deeds, because I believe many of the decisions I made as a general, however reprehensible to your eyes, were for the good of my men," she then admitted solemnly, "And of course, to the detriment of my enemies. Regardless, do not think I misunderstand why I cannot travel with you to the Undying Lands. I know what I did damaged my soul. And I would not boast of that fact."

He closed his eyes briefly, now feeling ashamed that he continued to misunderstand her. He placed his hand on the side of her cheek consolingly, "You are still young. The damage can be undone."

"That is my charge. Please trust me in this," she replied softly, pressing her cheek into his hand, needing his touch. He instinctively brought her towards him and rested his head aside hers.

"I do, Vezely," he said quietly, kissing her temple while holding her head, "I am sorry that my fears continue to cause doubt."

"And my words encourage it," she nuzzled against him, her eyes closed, breathing in his scent, "Perhaps I still hold ethics that make me a bad Elf."

"You have a higher purpose now, and you will make the right choices while fulfilling it," he said in her ear softly, afterwards she turned her head to rest on his shoulder as he embraced her. He knew she continued to have difficulties reconciling her two sides - an Easterling by culture, an Elf by blood; making him further realize her concern over the upcoming arrival of their kin, despite her effort to conceal it. "And do not worry about my father," he added a moment later.

"How can I not be worried?" she asked, pulling away to look upon him, "I have committed the most heinous crime of all. I have stolen his son's heart," words which cause a smile to crack through his serious demeanor.

"You have not stolen anything that I was not already willing to give," he said endearingly, taking her hand which rested on his shoulder and kissing the back of it, as if to apologize for not having a direct answer; that he could not provide her true reassurance. "While I honestly do not know how he will react," he said truthfully looking into her eyes, "I am his only son, his only kin in Middle Earth, and he has always cared about my happiness above all. He once gave me leave to not marry even though he knew marriage was a means to happiness. He allowed me to serve on the Woodland Guard instead of by his side in court, despite it being dangerous. He understood it gave me purpose and made me feel whole. I am sure he will remain reasonable, despite any feelings or disagreements he may have."

"Happiness," Vez stated back the word she knew was not the perfect description of their relationship. "I wish it could be a constant for us. That I did not have to return to Rhun, but could sail away with you to the Undying Lands, that we could truly be happy together."

"It will come to pass," Legolas said assuredly, "And everything will be as it should." He brought his hands on the side of her arms, "Let's go to Ithilien tomorrow, to the forest glen where we spent the afternoon lying in the sun together."

A smile lit her face, "I would like nothing more." The request sent butterflies to her stomach in anticipation - she longed to return to that place with him; one of the few places in Middle Earth that she would describe as perfect.


	32. Meeting

Vezely's fingers parted a piece of Legolas's golden hair into three small strands and began braiding them with a small smile and blush gracing her face, as she was embarrassed by her sudden desire to do so. The two Elves lounged next to each other under the shade of a great tree in Ithilien, having left Minas Tirith before sunrise to spend the day within the abandoned forests. They had taken a different route that day, finding a new stream to follow, stopping momentarily to eat the lunch they packed and to relax from their exploring.

"I remember when I was a child, my blood father would braid my hair," Vez spoke contently of a past only recently returned to her as she kept her eyes fixed on her finger's task. "About a year before I was taken my hair was as long as yours and I was thrilled the first time he braided it for me. Afterwards I raced to show my mother who immediately told me that I looked lovely. But I told her I did not, that these were warrior braids that father put in my hair." She finished her braiding and ran her fingers down the strand before turning her eyes to his who looked upon her enchanted as she continued, "I had seen some Woodland Guard pass by our small cottage that week and it was then my father told me about King Thranduil and his grand guards who were protectors of the realm. I noted their braids and requested that from that day on, I should also wear braids in my hair. And I did. My father could not go through a morning without braiding my hair."

Warmed by such shared memories, Legolas took her hand and kissed the back of her fingers, saying endearingly with a subtle hint of teasing, "It sounds like you never lost your determination."

She grinned, adding mirthfully, "Or my stubbornness. I liked to run barefoot from the front door straight into this open glen that was around twenty meters from our home. This place reminds me of it. In the fall the whole ground would be littered in leaves and I wanted nothing more than jump in the piles and hide under them all day. Mother would call me home and I would not go," she laughed slightly, getting caught in remembrance which caused Legolas to widen his grin in pure endearment seeing her this way. "She would scold me good when I did come back with my feet filthy, my clothes tattered, and my cold supper yet waiting for me. _Bellethiel_ , she'd say, _you are absolutely hopeless_." [ _Bellethiel_ = _the strong one_ ]

"Bellethiel?" Legolas asked surprised, turning his head to the side slightly after hearing her call herself that, immediately halting Vez's revelry.

Her face grew pallid, for she was unaware she let it slip, "It was my name," she replied quietly with a brief smile, "The name my blood parents gave me."

Legolas had never thought to ask what her Elf-given name was; its meaning prompted him to say softly, "It is a name well-suited."

She shook her head slightly, not wishing to think the same. Vez had not felt attached to the name upon first remembering it; these memories from her childhood felt distant and unclear. Yet recently moments such as these became more vivid in her recollection and sharing them somehow brought her closer to accepting their reality. "I often wondered if they knew what was going to happen to me, that I was doomed from the start," she said without heavy concern. She knew her father had wanted to depart Middle Earth for the Undying Lands, though Vezely's mother was not yet prepared to leave her homeland. She was a Silvan Elf, not descended from the High Elves for whom it was more common to hear the call to return to Valinor. Despite her father's desire and growing trepidation of staying, the couple would not be put asunder while Vezely was yet a child. "I could sense his fear," she added remembering, "That year I was no longer allowed to go to that glen alone."

"Even if your father knew, no future is ever set," he added encouragingly, "Yours could have been different. Perhaps you would have been a warrior of the Woodland Guard, for there are women who serve."

Vez smirked, saying with slight sarcasm at the thought of this alternate reality, "You mean serve as one of your father's body guards?"

"We are not body guards," he protested, narrowing his eyes on hers in mild contempt of the attribution.

"Alright," she raised her eyebrow before pressing the tip of her index finger playfully to his chest, saying slyly, "But would I have to take orders from you?"

"That you would," he said smugly, tilting his head up slight higher.

"I have never been good at following orders," she remarked mischievously, her hand again finding the braid in his hair.

"You are hopeless," he said mildly teasing.

"Completely," she whispered back biting her lip while again running her finger tips down the braid contemplating something before revealing her thoughts, her eyes yet diverted from his, "Do you think we would have still fallen in love?"

He had just been contemplating this as well, "Perhaps we would already be married," he replied, only desiring to think pleasant thoughts, his eyes roaming her face for her reaction.

A smile formed immediately as she added amused, "With less complications," though behind her amusement she also held some disappointment that it could not be so.

He tilted her chin up to have her eyes on his, having read this hidden regret in her reply, "Not everything is complicated..."

They would continue exploring that section of the forest into the afternoon, again following the stream up current to its source, a tall waterfall that fell from the rock face several meters up. They heard the soothing sound of water crashing into water well before seeing it - a pristine pool with the clouded sky above reflected in its rippling surface.

"This place is beautiful," the words escaped Vezely's mouth hastily, for she had never simply happened upon such a perfect oasis before on her many travels. "I'm going in," she added adamant a moment later, as if the simple joys she experienced that day alongside her partner suddenly made her more carefree and adventurous. She removed her scarf and jacket, dropping them to the ground beside her. When she began unbuttoning her blouse, Legolas, in realization of her plans to fully undress, quickly turned around embarrassed.

"You are not serious?" he inquired shocked by her rash actions while keeping his eyes averted.

Vezely was not deterred by his modesty and removed both her shirt and her trousers, but she decided to leave on her undergarment - a cream-colored, sleeveless slip that covered her to mid-thigh, just for minor decency. Her bare feet effortlessly glided down the large rocks which lined the shore before she quickly jumped into the lukewarm water below.

The sound of the splash caused Legolas to turn back around, only to see her swim to the center of the pool and for her head followed by her bare shoulders to rise above the water. She turned to face him, pushing her now wet hair back from her forehead. "What are you waiting for?" she called to him with a wide smile, noting his awkwardness and indecision on whether to join her, "The water is perfect. I promise you won't regret it!"

"You desire that I lose my honor?" he called back to her unsure, and while he noted she was not completely undressed, what she wore did not do much to cover her, especially when wet.

Vezely's mirthful face suddenly grew serious; she was well aware what she requested of him verged on impropriety for their courtship. But undeterred by these archaic rules of dating, she responded proudly, "Legolas Thranduilion, one of the nine, great warrior of the Third Age, it is impossible for you to lose your honor!" She then grinned once more before turning away from him, hoping the allotted privacy might prompt him to overcome his fear.

Hesitant, Legolas eventually obliged and removed his boots and tunic, but he left his pants on before going in after her.

Vez waited patiently until she heard the splash to turn and face him. As he swam closer to her, she giggled slightly after deciding her intentions. "I doubt you could catch me," she called to him mischievously before taking off towards the waterfall.

He smirked, knowing she desired a chase and that he would never decline a challenge. "Do not think you are the faster swimmer," he replied before following her.

"I am," she added smugly, as she kicked her feet faster, finding her ability to swim again, for it had been ages since doing so. As he caught up to her, she decided to dive below the water and attempt to swim up behind him. He discovered her plan quickly, but instead of using it as an opportunity to catch her, he surrendered, allowing her to put her arms around him from behind. She pressed herself against his back, "I think I caught you," she whispered amused in his ear. He quickly turned and grabbed her waist, but she splashed him in the face, laughing immediately after.

"Oh, so that is how you play?" he smirked with his eyes closed from being splashed, as she swam away laughing.

"Well, I never play fair," she called back to him.

The cat and mouse game ended with Vezely being caught by the foot, and albeit losing she had a wide grin on her face as Legolas lured her in. He noted how youthful and carefree she looked, as if her dark history had been erased and she knew no hardships or troubles aside from a dark cloud and a rainy day. "I surrender," she declared as she allowed herself to be pulled closer to him.

"Say it," his eyes implored hers.

She gave him a smart look before saying only part of what he wanted to hear, "You are a fast swimmer."

"You mean faster," he urged her to admit it.

She then placed her arms around his neck and wrapped her legs around his waist, "Perhaps I desired for you to catch me all along," she said slyly, throwing him off-guard by her closeness that he couldn't immediately reply to her. A moment of silence more and she asked quietly, "Do I make you uncomfortable?"

He shook his head and pulled her closer to him as his feet worked to keep them both above water. She ran her fingers down his shoulders and around his bare back, feeling the muscles she knew his tunic had hidden. They stared longingly into each other's eyes, breathing heavily before their lips met, the intensity of the connection making Legolas suddenly forget to keep treading to keep them afloat, so they sunk slowly underwater, their bodies still locked together.

They would resurface a few seconds later, grinning and laughing at themselves for such behavior, before looking back into each other's eyes would make them succumb to the desire to be close again. Legolas reached out his hand from the water to push her hair to the side of her forehead before running his fingers over the earrings in her ear and around to the back of her head, swimming closer to her as he did. He then pressed his forehead against hers and whispered regretfully, "We should head back," his nose lighting touching hers.

She nodded slightly, the tip of her nose nuzzling his, adding with quiet regret, "Before the sun goes down," knowing they had told their companions they would return by nightfall and if they did not do as mentioned, it could have prompted unnecessary concern. Both of them, however, desired to remain in Ithilien that night, in each other's arms, away from all other thoughts and responsibilities.

Legolas did not fully avert his eyes from her wet form as she emerged ahead of him from the pool, the slip clinging to her skin, the black ink of her tattoos all apparent on her backside, bearing text of a language he would never learn to read. He noted the undeniable curves of her female form; a woman, not a warrior. She confidently walked in front of him unashamed to be seen with sparse covering. She turned her head slightly and from the corner of her eye she could see him watching her, making her grateful he had moved past his prior discomfort to do so.

"The sun should still be warm enough to dry us," she said turning to him with his dry tunic outstretched in her hand, having picked up a bundle of their clothes from the ground they left them on.

He averted his eyes quickly, and cleared his throat before adding as if undeterred, "Perhaps in the open field." She smiled at his sudden embarrassment, though knowing what she currently was wearing did not leave much to the imagination.

After dressing, they returned to Arod. The white horse stood patiently awaiting their arrival, having grazed all day on green grasses. Once perched behind him, Vezely ran her fingers through Legolas's damp hair and smoothed it back behind his ears, noting it had surprisingly not gotten badly tangled from swimming. His pants were still wet, for not having removed them.

"You do not need these next time," Vez spoke softly in his ear, grabbing hold of the sides of his hips and running her hands down his thighs.

"You are forward," he replied with slight reprimand, looking at her from the corner of his eye, but noting the heat rushing to his cheeks at her implication and touch. He could not deny crossing these boundaries with her intrigued him. They had taken another step in solidifying their relationship, finding the day fulfilling and needed before any guests would arrive in Minas Tirith. Legolas knew the change in population would take him away from being able to spend quality time with her, and she would leave the West shortly after, with a return date unset.

They rode a half hour before spotting a caravan of travelers far off in the distance, heading on the same route. "It cannot be," Legolas stated in disbelief, for his keen eyes could make out the sigil and colors of his kin.

"Elves?" Vez asked uncertain, her eyes squinting as she tried to make out their forms, having no idea where they hailed from.

"It is our kin," Legolas said in elated surprise, having not expected to cross their path or to be so soon reunited with them.

As Legolas prompted Arod to quickly ride towards them, Vezely subconsciously placed her scarf over her head as one would the hood of a cloak, suddenly desiring the anonymity she once had when first crossing West of Rhovanion. The uncomfortable knot in her stomach grew as she could make out their appearances more clearly: the way the late day sun made their long hair shine, how their velvet riding cloaks draped like cascading waterfalls over their slender forms, and the perfection of their posture as they rode; Elves were majestic beings.

Two Elven riders would come to greet them; guards dressed in the perfection that was proper Elven armor. "Lord Legolas," they harkened him, their voices crisp and clear, "It is a joy to see you well."

They would be escorted to the rest of the party, who had halted their trek in order to greet the triumphant prince properly; for tales of his exploits in the fellowship and during the war had traveled home to all his kin. The small group had dismounted their horses, prompting Vezely and Legolas to do the same. Vezely took Arod's reins, lingering close to the white horse's side while Legolas walked ahead of her to be greeted. They all placed the palm of their hands on their chest before slowly extending them forward; an Elvish greeting Vezely had seen before when Haldir and his troops arrived at Helm's Deep. Legolas approach each of them and placed his hand on the side of their shoulder, stopping momentarily and exchanging a more personal recognition and greeting, stating each of their names endearingly as they spoke honoring words to him.

At the end of the line stood his father, a small but undoubtedly proud smile gracing his strong features. On his head, which bore golden locks of a length surpassing Legolas's, he wore a simple silver circlet, while his long coat of bluish silver threads bore a more intricate design - a geometric brocade of branches and stylized leaves. On his side he carried a long sword with a handle of gold inlay, while his hand held onto a carved staff; his fingers also fashioned large rings that looked as twisted branches made of gold.

"Father," Legolas stopped in front of him, placing his hand to his chest and bowing as he brought his hand forward, properly greeting the king of the Woodland Realm. His father then placed a hand to his son's cheek, looking into his son's eyes before embracing him in joyous reunion.

"Son," he said holding him close, grateful to see him alive and well for so much had been uncertain over the past year, "You have honored the realm and made your father very proud."

Vezely, who decidedly remained stationary by Arod's side, was warmed to see these interactions, proving to her that not only did Legolas hold great respect amongst his kin, but there was a great deal of love between father and son.

Thranduil added wondering, "I had not expected to meet you on our path. You have strayed from Minas Tirith with what business at hand?" His blue eyes finally shifted to Legolas's quiet traveling companion, whose distance was not enough to hide his speech from Elven ears; though he was unaware she could now understand the Elven tongue since she had no comprehension of it the last time they met.

"I have spent the day exploring the forests of Ithilien," Legolas began to explain, still elated from having rejoined his kin, "For I have decided to aid Lord Aragorn in its needed restoration," he then turned to the source of his father's other interest, to Vezely, whose eyes were drawn in by Thranduil's stolid stare; his father knew who she was despite the hood covering her Elven features. "Father, this is..."

"Vezely of Rhun," he declared loudly to his people, prompting Vez to swallow the spit in her mouth, before proceeding to remove the hooded scarf from her head, slowly revealing her foreign appearance to those in attendance; they would not be accustomed to seeing an Elf dressed in foreign clothing, with hair shorn extremely short, and gold earrings lining both ears.

"The Elf once banished from our homeland has returned West. Perhaps it needs to be asked whether she would accept retribution for breaking these terms," Thranduil added solidly, saying the latter not expecting her to understand their language.

"I returned by order of the Blue Wizards," Vezely spoke in fluent Elvish, however her slight accent was apparent to them. She released Arod's reins and moved towards him as she explained, "To bear information on the fall of the Easterling Resistance and of the armies amassing for Western campaigns." Once in front of him, she placed her fist on her chest and bowed her head down in Easterling greeting. "I have not forgotten the kindness the king of the Woodland Realm undeservedly showed me, or the terms of my banishment. Death is yet what I deserve," she proceeded to go down on one knee, "I do not ask for forgiveness, but I request pardon for my presence, and continued leave to walk in the West for yet another week before returning from where I came."

Thranduil's eyes narrowed on her kowtowing form, "It appears your fate is not for me to decide," he stated holding his head high, partially grateful to hear she would be returning East, "For such leave you have been given by those I would not question," he was referring to the White Council and Istari, who aided in her release from Dol Guldur and her recovery following.

Vezely bowed her head courteously before returning to her feet, her eyes mark by concern and her breathing suddenly labored as the king stared coldly upon her, for he knew well her past and the dark deeds committed by her hands. It was as if he was telling her he knew she was evil and that she would not be forgiven.

"Father," Legolas interrupted politely; his voice taking his father's harsh eyes away from her.

"We continue our path," Thranduil called out to his companions, not desiring to allot the Easterling Elf anymore time. As the company returned to their horses, Thranduil placed an arm around his son's shoulder, turning him from Vezely and saying personally, "Son, ride by my side and warm me with stories I have only heard second hand. But first," he asked curiously, "You must let me know, why are your pants wet?"

Legolas stalled, uncertain how to word the truth of the past incident; he also suddenly realized he did not know how to divulge the truth of his relationship with Vezely. And introducing they were together by revealing his pants were wet from a half-naked rendezvous in a forest pond perhaps was not the most appropriate way to do so.

"It is my fault," Vezely interrupted from behind them, for she was yet close enough to hear, turning the king's eyes back on her as she briefly exchanged a glance with Legolas. "For crossing a ford with a horse that is not receptive to me. Legolas had to go in the water and pull the animal through."

Thranduil's eyes narrowed, knowing it was an unlikely story from any Elf, who would not only be able to judge nature but also keep in control of a horse regardless. He let it slide, however, caring nothing but to hear his son's voice again. After he turned his eyes from her, Legolas gave Vezely a wide eyed look while Vez tried to communicate back to him that it was better than telling the truth - that they went swimming half naked together.

Vezely returned to Arod, taking the horse's reins and bringing her forward. Legolas jumped upon her saddle, afterwards offering Vezely a hand to sit behind him.

"I will walk," Vez said pleasantly, her demeanor trying to hide any discomfort from before, "Be by your father's side." He looked at her uncertain as she stepped back from the horse, "Go," she added with determination.

Vez watched him ride off to his father's side, and she again lifted her scarf up as a hood over her head. The Elven lords had also mounted their horses and began following their king and prince. She received several brief nods of greeting from them, which she returned in kind; a simple politeness shown to strangers. But she could tell behind the pomp, each of them held a certain amount of suspicion for the corrupted Elf. She allowed herself to fall behind the group, walking alongside the cart at the back, which contained their possessions and personal comforts for their brief stay in Minas Tirith. Legolas looked back at her when he reached his father's side and she returned his glance with a warm smile; hoping to relay that she was content to walk, to not be concerned, and to enjoy catching up with his father. The sun was soon to set, and the travel was slow. It was unlikely they would arrive at Minas Tirith in sunlight.


	33. Old Friends and a Father's Concern

Riding ahead of the company to travel by his father's side, Legolas's immediate concern and desired topic of conversation was the state of the Woodland Realm, as he asked about the causalities, the full extent of the damage done by the great fire, and the resolve of their people. While his father would rather have heard more about his son's heroic exploits, he understood his need for this information.

"...I feared I would find you sparse on spirit," Thranduil stated truthfully to his son, after finally being relayed some details of his journey with the fellowship and the final battles, "To accompany such evil on its path to destruction and find oneself in continuous peril, one does not emerge the same."

"I am not the same father, but I have not despaired either," Legolas replied assuredly.

"You have the resolve of your bloodline," he said proudly, having not lost his way after his first experience with war and the loss of his father, though it forever changed him and made him untrusting of the world. "And now you have plans to restore a forest?" He asked, curious of his trip to Ithilien.

"I have many plans before I leave these lands," Legolas replied carefully, hoping to divulge an important milestone in his life's trajectory, "I have heard the call."

His father's heart uplifted and saddened at the same time, "Ah, you are being called forth. I had not expected this news. I understand now why you did not reply to my letter."

Legolas kept his eyes averted, for this news was not the reason he didn't reply. His father's letter condemned any relations he might seek with Vezely while suggesting he marry another. To have written back, telling him that he heard the call, but also that he desired to wait until Vezely could accompany him, would it not have been inappropriate? Yet now in his presence he realized writing this truth would have been easier than speaking it.

"I expect my request that you betroth the Lady Adele was not taken in spite," he added wondering his son's thoughts for it was a conversation needed to be had, "For I do deem it a highly suitable match and one which should still be considered regardless of your soon departure."

Legolas shifted in his saddle uncomfortably, "Father, I will not marry for political allegiance or because it is deemed by others a suitable match."

Thranduil breathed in heavily through his nostrils, knowing it would not be easy overcoming his son's steadfast determination or ideals; for he had forsaken political partnerships long ago, but still had not fallen in love either. "You yet desire solitude," he stated calmly, "I was once the same until I met your mother. Even in her physical absence I feel whole. That is why I request you do not push aside the possibility of finding there is truth behind my belief in Lady Adele's aptness."

Legolas now noted his father's true persistence in pursuing this courtship on his behalf; persistence he had not expected from him. Any possibility for reply was cut short by the hailing of two Gondorian guards, who had rode out to greet and escort the caravan into the city, turning his father's attention.

"Ah," Thranduil mused, "We arrive at dusk and just in time for supper." He looked over at his son, "There is time to discuss this further. And when you meet her, perhaps then you will understand my reasoning."

Legolas nodded politely, feeling ashamed he could not forthrightly tell his father the truth; that now he truly worried how to handle what would undoubtedly be a bitter reaction. He also believed now was not the time to discuss this matter either, for it required a more private setting.

Deciding it would be dutiful of him, he offered to ride ahead and make sure all was prepared in the guest villa for their arrival; a gesture appreciated by his father. But instead of going forward towards Minas Tirith, he first rode to the back of the column where Vezely was walking, her head partially hooded by her scarf, her arms crossed in front of her, and her eyes watching the prince ride to her side and once there outstretching his hand for her to join him. She grasped it without hesitation, but she did not wrap her hands around his waist as she always did when they rode together and instead held onto the sides of the saddle. She exchanged a brief glance with his father as they rode passed, noting again that his eyes were difficult to read. The king, however, shifted with slight discomfort over witnessing his son's closeness with this Elf as they passed. He had not bothered to ask why Vezely of Rhun accompanied him to the forests of Ithilien. Though he could not believe his son could hold anymore than feelings of friendship towards her. And he would be sailing West to the Undying Lands and she would be returning East from whence she came. Their paths were divergent, thus she should hold no worries in his mind, yet his eyes continued to watch them, warily and uncertain.

Realizing the lack of her touch, Legolas grabbed her hands and placed them around his waist.

"You told him?" Vezely asked assuming, with a great desire to hear details.

"I did not find the right opportunity," he replied frankly, prompting Vez to pull her hands away, but he would not let her and kept a hold of one of them. "I will tell him tonight," he said determined as he intertwined his fingers over hers and pressed her hand closer to his chest, reminding himself that his love for her was not something to be ashamed of, nor something to fear his father's disapproval of.

"If the opportunity does not present itself," Vez stated, thinking through the implications, "My suggestion to keep such feelings hidden should remain an option. If not to your father, then at least to the rest of your kin."

"Vezely," his tone slightly scolding her for proposing this again, "That is still not an option suitable for me."

Vez closed her eyes momentarily, trying not to sigh from disappointment in her inability to persuade him from his decided task, one which she believed would cause more strife than necessary. While the lukewarm reception she just received from his father and the ambassadors of Mirkwood was not disastrous or necessarily unkind, neither was it pleasant or without the expected suspicion. She wrapped her other hand around him and leaned into an embrace, holding him to apologize for this difficulty wrought on her behalf. _If only there were less complications_ , she thought solemnly, soaking in his warmth and breathing his scent, _and we could spend every day by each other's side and feel as carefree as we felt today_.

"It will be alright," he said softly, squeezing her hand for reassurance, as if knowing her troubled thoughts needed comfort.

...It would soon be learned that the ambassadors from the city of Dale and the dwarf ambassadors from Erebor had also arrived that afternoon. The announcement of Legolas's kin's soon arrival prompted more busied preparations at the guest house as the maids hurried off to make sure all was in order in the West Wing.

Vezely returned to her quarters with Legolas's bow and quiver set in her hands, since Legolas would have no time to return to his room. She decided to change out of her traveling attire into another Rhunic garment she purchased from the marketplace shop. It was more representative of her usual Easterling attire: a pair of loose black trousers and an open, knee-length overcoat with wide sleeves and fitted sleeveless tank underneath; all cinched in at the waist with large sash. The embellishments were minimal - some bronze arabesque designs stitched along the hemlines - but with the addition of the gold earrings lining her ears and the few rings she had left after trading in most for coin, more details were unnecessary. The alternating hues of blacks and dark blues were also more characteristic of what she would choose to wear in Rhun, and she felt even more appropriate currently; feeling like a black sheep amongst the free people of the West and now, especially amongst her kin.

She overheard Legolas return across the hallway, though not alone. He was accompanied by his life-long friend Thalion, who, like himself, served many centuries on the Woodland Guard despite being Sindarin high born. Behind them were two porters carrying a large trunk of the prince's garments, which his father had packed for him. Inside would be his coronation robes as well as other robes to wear to the upcoming council meetings. Legolas was grateful to soon have alternate attire, having worn through his few tunics that accompanied him on his journey.

"...Besides your heroism," Thalion mused once inside Legolas's quarters, having thoroughly enjoyed hearing the Elf prince's exploits first hand, "There are other rumors circulating."

Legolas was in the midst of opening the trunk when Thalion spoke, making him release the lid back down, "Such as?" He asked appearing intrigued though uncomfortable with certain possibilities.

"Of your betrothal to a certain lady of Lothlorien," Thalion stated with one eyebrow raised, having heard rumors that the Mirkwood heir would wed the niece of Lord Celeborn in celebration of their victory and newly forged alliance.

"There has been no acceptance of this match on my part," Legolas stated forthrightly, "It is my father's scheme."

"Yet she is well-suited for you. I have met her recently," Thalion explained, leaning against the windowsill and crossing his arms, "Her beauty is unparalleled. Hair past her waist that's the color of sunshine on a cloudless day, eyes the color of sapphires, a voice like a songbird, and poise and grace that puts many Elf-maidens to shame. And she has a fondness for the Elf-prince, when once you met."

Legolas looked at his friend doubtfully, "I do not recall meeting her."

Thalion smirked, "Ah, it was when we spent those long months in Rivendell, at request of your father to study ancient texts," he said to jolt his friend's memory to many centuries past.

Legolas noted that perhaps he had met her, though she left him without a lingering impression. Regardless, I will not marry her," he stated unconcerned, as he returned his attention to the trunk, opening it to find his casual robes, "And by the sound of your praise for her, perhaps you would be a better suitor."

"Perhaps I would," Thalion said amused, but then added warmly, "Though I would not deny a trusted friend the possibility of finding love when it is much deserved."

Legolas went to place a hand on his friend's shoulder, "You are and having always been a good friend," he said with sincerity, "A statement much needed to be said before I leave these shores for our people's homeland."

"My friend," Thalion said surprised, his eyes wavering on his, "You have been called? When do intend to leave?"

"Not for some time," Legolas stated truthfully, returning to the chest to retrieve the garment he would wear for supper, "For one, I have agreed to help restore the forests of Ithilien for King Elessar."

Not desiring to back down on the topic of his friend's heart, and now assuming his disinterest in betrothing Lady Adele was mostly due to his departure plans, he added, "Such tasks need not be done in solitude. Perhaps fair Lady Adele would aid you in this task and then accompany you across the great sea."

Legolas turned to his friend, the long garment now draped over his arm, "My desire to leave these shores is not the reason I will not marry Lady Adele."

Thalion looked at him skeptically before he left for the other room to change. During this time, a light knock at the door came and Thalion went to answer it, assuming it was a house maid bearing information. On his way down the long entryway, however, he would find the door opening on its own and Vezely stepping inside, as the two Elves had grown accustomed to entering each other's unlocked chambers with little more than a slight knock. Vezely also believed Legolas was either gone, as she heard people depart, not knowing it was only the porters, or still there, but alone.

"Legolas?" she called as she stepped inside only to be halted in her tracks, almost dropping Legolas's bow and quiver set in her hand as she saw Thalion standing before her, his eyes narrowing as memories of his brother who was killed in the ambush her troops provoked rang through his mind.

"Apologies," Vezely spoke politely, flashing a brief smile, hoping to display she was undeterred by his unexpected presence and subsequent cold state, "I planned on returning these to Legolas. I did not know he had company."

Realizing his manners were amiss, Thalion regained his composure, saying pompously, " _Lord_ Legolas is occupied at the moment," placing an emphasis on _lord_ as if to teach her proper etiquette when addressing Elvish hierarchy.

Vez stifled a small laugh and resisted the urge to roll her eyes, "Very well then," she replied unimpressed, "I can come back another time."

Legolas, having dressed quickly, came down the entryway, his bronze velvet robes swaying as he walked, "Vezely, this is my friend Thalion." His garments reminded Vez of the richly crafted robes that Lord Elrond wore upon meeting her at Dunharrow. She momentarily stared at him in awe, admiring his grand appearance before realizing he had introduced his friend by name.

"Thalion, pleasure to meet you," she spoke a second later, her eyes shifting back to the brown haired elf, maneuvering the bow and quiver in her hands to freely allow her to put her right fist to her chest and bow her head down in an Easterling greeting.

Thalion greeted her with a slow and polite nod of the head, while Legolas retrieved the burdens from her hands, "I have known Thalion since I was a child," he spoke endearingly of his friend while placing his quiver set on the entryway's side table and leaning his bow against the wall, "We served on the Woodland Guard together, but now he is one of my father's advisors."

Noting his friend's mute discomfort and desiring to ease it by forcing herself to make friendly conversation, Vezely stated, "Guard to advisor. That is a lifestyle change. Was there impetus for it?"

Thalion's cold eyes roamed her face as he stated directly, "The death of my brother."

"My condolences," Vez replied with some sincerity, noting now that Legolas was giving Thalion a troubled stare, this connection having been momentarily remiss in his memory. The awkward silence prompted Vez to make her exit, "I take my leave. Nice meeting you, Thalion." She shared a brief apologetic glance with Legolas, adding to it a polite nod and in order to appear as if she was not too casual around him, stating in farewell, " _Lord_ Legolas."

After she left, Thalion asked his friend, "Is there reason why you have befriended this Elf to the extent that she would disrespectfully enter your room uninvited?"

Legolas could understand his friend's antagonism, for he lost his brother the day her band of Balchoth entered Mirkwood. How he could have forgotten such a connection, he did not know. But he needed to defend her, saying with care, "She is making amends and everyday strives towards them," concern was apparent in his voice, "And she was born in the forests of Mirkwood, our kin should not forsake her." Though Legolas noted after that what he said did not necessarily answer the question of Vez's casual entry into his room.

Thalion looked at his friend concerned, "Your heart is truly filled with kindness for the less fortunate, but your mind has not weighed balance to it."

"You do not know her," Legolas stated calmly.

"And you do?" Thalion asked doubtfully, though not conceiving of the possibility of there being more than a mutual friendship between the two. Thalion then placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, "I will not question your kind heart my friend, for having been just reunited, may our conversation tonight be filled with only joyous words in celebration of a future of peace and hopefully, for your sake, one of love," he winked while opening the door so they could depart for the West Wing, where in the courtyard a small feast was laid out for the travelers to enjoy.

* * *

"I trust everything is satisfactory," Gandalf spoke to Thranduil courteously, holding a just filled glass of heady Dorwinion wine in his hand.

"Very much so," he stated grateful for the space allotted to his kin. His attention soon turned upon his son entering alongside Thalion, dressed in the robes he had brought from home. As he added considering, "For I would stay in far more meager establishments if it meant a chance to be alongside my son once more."

Both he and Gandalf stood from their seats as Legolas approached them, his father placing a hand on his shoulder, his face gracing a warm smile. "Gratitude for these comforts, father" Legolas said in recognition of his changed attire.

After providing a courteous nod, Thranduil stated considering, "They suit you, as now there appears to be less need for warrior attire." A server with a tray of filled wine glasses passed by them, and Thalion and Legolas both took one as his father held up his own to prompt a toast, "To an era of peace."

"Yes, to peace," Gandalf added, cheerfully raising his own glass, "May it endure in Middle Earth and also find its way to the lands East of here," his eyes settling on Legolas's, who felt the wizard could sense the uncomfortable situation he would soon find himself in with his father.

The discussion moved on from polite conversation over their travel there to going over the days and following day's arrivals before the week's many meetings would commence. Thranduil informed Gandalf that Lord Celeborn and the Lothlorien ambassadors would undoubtedly be arriving tomorrow, having left a day after them. Lord Elrond and his small company would also be arriving, as would King Eomer and his advisors from Rohan. Then with everyone in attendance, a great feast would be held in the great hall to welcome all that night.

Before Gandalf left the group, hoping to make his way to at least one more gathering that evening in order to be a polite host, he asked Legolas curiously, having noted her absence, "...Legolas, I had presumed Vezely would have accompanied you. I have some important information to give her," for having been in conversation with the ambassadors from Dale and Erebor that afternoon.

Legolas tried to hide his disappointment that Vezely could not freely be by his side as Gandalf assumed; that indeed, she had not been invited.

"What business does one have with this _Elf_?" Thranduil asked slightly interrupting, looking from his son to Gandalf; his intonation of Elf showing he was skeptical of her worth being mentioned.

"One which the peace we toasted depends on," Gandalf remarked with conviction, "For the East is now in disarray and will need resettling before we can truly assure peace between our borders."

"With Sauron destroyed, is the East not at peace?" Thalion asked carefully.

"Far from it," Gandalf stated in a drawn out tone, "Though I am no expert on the matter of Rhunic politics, this _Elf_ , however, is, and has her work cut out for her. As we are here toasting to peace, she will soon be setting out for war." Thranduil's eyes narrowed, concerned that his borders were not as safe as he had assumed. "In any case, she has been granted invitation to the first council and allowance to question the ambassadors of Dale and Erebor on matters pertaining to the Easterlings' defeat. I was hoping to tell her this tonight, but perhaps, Legolas, you can relay this to her on my behalf," implying he knew the two Elves would be in each other's company soon enough, "I'm sure it will be well received," he added with a small smile. Vezely had discussed with him her desire to meet with these ambassadors and Gandalf graciously offered to be the middleman. And he did more than simply get her a private meeting; he got her access to the introductory council meeting, where all ambassadors would share general information about the war and recovery in their region, thinking such knowledge could be useful.

"It will indeed be. Thank you, Gandalf," Legolas replied politely, being grateful on Vezely's behalf since he knew her desires for this.

"Now, if you will pardon my exit," Gandalf excused himself, though not before quickly consuming the rest of the wine in his glass.

As Gandalf left, Thranduil considered not only the information pertaining to the East's disjuncture and what he considered the impropriety of having Sauron's former ally at one of the official council meetings, but also he wondered about Gandalf's insinuations: that it was unexpected for Vezely to not have accompanied his son, and that his son could relay this information to her on his behalf, as if again it was expected they'd be in each other's company.

"It is a bit presumptuous to offer invitation to a non-official," Thalion stated after Gandalf left, considering it similarly as Thranduil did, "You would think they would provide all parties a chance for approval."

Legolas stated judiciously, "Her need is to question the ambassadors from Dale and Erebor. She will not be given leave to speak to other parties, so there should be little concern over her presence."

"I believe what Thalion refers to is simply the nature of her presence offering impudence," Thranduil stated calmly, "For was she not sided with the enemy?"

Legolas breathed in. "Was," he released the word with his breath, feeling defeated as he gained a better sense of the obstacles Vezely had to go through, and now finding his father's eyes upon him conspicuous of his defense of her.

Thalion, being one to prefer cheer over disagreement, stepped in, "Your son, my lord, is of a truly kind heart to have befriended one of such reputation."

"My lord," another ambassador interrupted the trio politely, acknowledging that he and some others were retiring to their rooms to rest for the evening, prompting Thranduil to address all his kindred, expressing his hopes for them to be refreshed before the busy days to come.

"I will also take my leave," Thalion added in cheerful tone, "For rest is a reward after a long spate of travel."

As Thalion left, Legolas walked side by side with his father, "I do hope you find the guest room amenable," decidedly changing the subject.

Thranduil nodded in confirmation, before asking, "Is there reason why you continue your residence on the other side of the villa?"

"It seemed unnecessary to move after so many weeks there," Legolas replied, seemingly unconcerned by the question though wondering whether his father was testing him for certain answers.

Before the room's entrance, Legolas hesitated whether to follow him inside, as if to freely invite the inevitably awkward conversation he anticipated, but the decision was soon made for him.

"There are matters we should discuss," his father stated walking inside, expecting his son to easily follow. Thranduil leisurely took off his gold and jewel rings, placing them on the den's side table, afterwards unclasping his cloak, which Legolas politely took from him to hang in the wardrobe. The king contemplated his words before speaking any, not knowing that the silence was making his son uncomfortable. "While I am understanding of the close friendship you've developed with a dwarf, as another member of the fellowship, and happy to overlook the travel plans you have set with this companion following the coronation," having heard that before returning home, Legolas intended to travel with Gimli to further explore Fangorn Forest and the caves of Helm's Deep, "Your closeness and willingness to openly defend this Elf from the East, I cannot with good conscious continue to condone."

"Father," Legolas tried to interrupt, but Thranduil was not finished.

"You have already been seen by your kin alongside her, and our people may understand this as a token of your kindness, a gesture of goodwill perhaps, but when the ambassadors from Lothlorien and Imladris arrive, I do not want to prompt further associations."

Legolas closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, discontent with what his father appeared to be suggesting, "And you would have me disassociate myself."

"Is such a request so difficult?" Thranduil said unconcerned, "Or without reason in such times when peace should be the focus of everyone's discussion."

Legolas's replied carefully, "Such a request is impossible."

"Impossible? I am not asking you to break a friendship, for I again understand that one could develop in times of war. But simply ask that you refrain from being in her sole accompaniment and from openly defending her in conversation. You have built an honorable reputation for yourself, do not cheapen it by false rumors," he stated calmly.

Legolas engaged his father's eyes, "And what rumors are you afraid will circulate?"

Thranduil sat down on one of the room's cushioned chairs, taking a moment to compose himself before speaking. He looked away from his son while asking on a delicate subject still troubling him, "You tell me, for lies seem to flow freely from her tongue, and I would only hear the truth," he stated before looking back upon his son interrogatingly, "Your pants were not wet from an obstinate horse."

Legolas breathed in uncomfortably, his feet moving him to the chair alongside his father's, noting he was unable to look him in the eye as he sat down. He explained, "No, they were not. She only lied about the horse because she also fears for my reputation, and of your disappointment. That if you knew we went swimming together in a forest pond..."

"Yet her clothes were not wet," Thranduil interrupted with mild discomfort at its implication." Legolas kept his eyes averted, noting he felt ashamed to have his father point this out. "I heard from Lord Elrond that you may hold affection for her, but I could not in good conscious believe that my son...Tell me the truth," he said getting mildly angered, "What is the nature of your relationship with this Elf?"

"I never desired your resentment," Legolas remained calm, sensing his father's wavering emotions, "Nor did I intend to find feelings where I would not expect them, or for one who I once held the same mistrust of as you do now. But in our short time together, regardless of how hard I tried to deny it, my heart had already decided."

Not persuaded by what he heard and with his stern eyes yet averted, he father replied darkly, "It is not mistrust that I hold for Vezely of Rhun, but disgust. I do not believe you fully comprehend who it is your heart professes this supposed devotion to," he tried to reason on his behalf, "She has seduced you into this, you have been naive, led to believe..."

"Father," Legolas interrupted, slowly shaking his head disheartened, "I am more than aware of the blood that stains her hands, of who she was, for she has told me darker deeds than I care to ever share."

"And yet you can still hold such feelings?" His father stated in disbelief, "I cannot condone your actions."

"You cannot deny my heart. Do not ask me to forsake her. Because by doing so, you ask that I should despair," he said carefully. His father's eyes quickly moved to his, noting the strength behind the meaning to his words.

"And how do you intend not to when the one you love is barred from crossing the great sea?" Having heard these details from Lord Elrond.

"She is not barred from redemption," Legolas replied carefully, "And I will wait as long as it takes for her to cross by my side."

Despite his contempt for the situation, Thranduil could not deny his son's soul-bearing determination. He closed his eyes and brought a hand to his brow, squeezing his temples as if to nurse a sudden headache. He had only ever wanted what was best for his son, and now with evil truly rescinded he desired nothing more than for him to experience true bliss, a life without pain, and a loving partnership, having been hopeful he would find it with Lady Adele. Now he could see nothing but sorrow in his son's future. He was not convinced that Vezely of Rhun was worth it, that she was deserving of his son's affections, or that she offered him anything more than uncertainty. She could not truly love his son, he reasoned, for how could one so corrupted ever love wholeheartedly.

"Do not fear for me, father," Legolas broke the silence, his hand clasping the side of the chair his father sat in, "For I have found love. Unexpected, yes, but it is true. With your blessing or not, Vezely and I will be together because I do not believe either of us can now exist apart." He removed his grip and stood as his father remained unresponsive. He decided it best to leave, and allow him to contemplate all that was revealed this night, to give him time.

* * *

Vezely and Legolas promised when departing each other earlier to meet again that evening, at their usual conversation spot on the their side of the villa. Vez went there early and sat on the wide stone ledge of the veranda, precariously dangling her legs over the outer side. She should have been content to gaze up at the night sky; tracing the star's alignments and getting lost in the voids surrounding their light, but her mind would not settle. When she first crossed Rhovanion, she could not stop looking at the stars, for Shadow covered much of Rhun's skies as Sauron's power grew. The night sky had become a black void with only the moon's light finding its way to the ground. She assumed the star's light was again visible; that the same sky she gazed upon tonight would be the one that she could gaze upon once back in Rhun.

As her departure date grew closer, Vezely felt on the cusp of two desires: to live a life alongside her companion, carefree and content as she was today, but to also continue her trade as a warrior; a charge which gave her purpose. Yet she also realized that without pursuing the latter, the former could not be obtained; in order to redeem herself and truly live in peace with the one she loved, she must continue on the path of a warrior. There was some stability in that truism, she thought slightly hopeful, for it helped validate in her mind the urge she had to place sword in hand and go where its use was needed. The Balchoth in her had not left her, even if she had lost her beloved horse and her weapons - her sword broken by Öldür's axe at the Battle of Pelennor Fields, and her sais discarded or, as the healers said, recycled back into Minas Tirith's vast armory during her stay at the Houses of Healing. Vez planned to go to the market in the morning and find a blacksmith she could negotiate with, since she found herself short on coin and with returning to the Dim Quarters appearing to be an ill-suited option after the last time, she feared returning to Rhun with only the bows and arrows Faramir authorized.

"I recall that evening, when I first saw you staring up at the stars," Legolas said softly coming to her side, stirring her from her contemplative state as she turned her body to face him, swinging her legs over to dangle inside the ledge.

She smiled warmly in remembrance, stating amused, "And I queried whether you desired to start an argument."

Legolas's somber demeanor cracked a smile, as he lightly placing his hands on her knees after he stopped in front of her, "I had given you no reason to think otherwise."

She smirked, placing her hands on top of his and saying slyly, hoping to cheer him up, "I do recall some cold stares, telling me that I should not dare make one mal move before the prince of Mirkwood."

He laughed slightly, finding he enjoyed her mild teasing and the way she often took the initiative to force his apprehensive touch. She had taken his hands and placed them at her waist as she jumped down in front of him, her back leaning against the cold stone ledge, her fingers running down the sides of his robe's collar, tugging him ever so slightly as invitation to come closer to her.

She then looked upon him with seriousness, saying concerned, "I do not desire to be stared upon as such by you ever again."

"It is no longer possible," he replied softly, his eyes drawn into hers, as he gently brushed the side of her face with the back of his fingers and leaned in to kiss her forehead, realizing apologetically that he could not save her from the cold stares she received today from the rest of his kin.

Before Vezely cuddled closer to him, she asked wondering, "Perhaps we should spend the evening inside. We do not need to risk being seen."

"None will follow me here," he replied to her unconcerned, now taking the initiative to draw her into his embrace, "And my father now knows."

She moved back from him in order to look upon his face, seeing in his eyes a bitter removal though she had read his discontent upon arrival, "And he does not approve," she stated carefully.

"It does not matter," he replied quickly, trying to brush it off.

"It matters," Vezely affirmed her conviction, her hand going softly to the side of his face as she engaged his eyes with hers, "He is your father and it is your reputation."

"It also matters to me how you are perceived and treated," Legolas wanted to defer attention from him.

"Legolas, I have earned such treatment," Vezely replied firmly, "Cold stares and harsh words, they do not bother me."

"But should I not defend you?" Legolas implored, thinking of how his father desired him not to, "How else to prove that you are not who you were? That you deserve to be treated as friend, not foe."

Vezely look away from him momentarily, touched by his desire to defend her, but unconvinced that it would do any good, "Regardless of every good deed I do, the world will not forget who I was. It is the life I must lead, part of the price I must pay for my sins. I cannot hide from my past, nor should I. And your father is right; you should not openly defend me, for it only marks you as naive."

Legolas then realized her point, "We are back to your suggestion, to keep our relationship a secret."

"This has hurt your father. By furthering knowledge of us, it may only grieve him more," she replied sincerely, "For his reputation is also at stake."

"He just needs time," Legolas stated with false hope; still not convinced in taking this route of secrecy.

Vezely nodded to agree, as if knowing he needed her to believe time would change things, "And I will talk to him, if he is willing to hear me," Vez added, wanting an opportunity to explain her side. Legolas looked down, disheartened by their current predicament. Vezely lifted his chin, "Do not despair," she smiled slightly, "For we still find ourselves in each others arms." Her look was infectious, able to pick him back up and resettle him with hope. His father just needed time, he thought bringing her closer to him; he will understand...


	34. Many Greetings

Vezely gritted her teeth and clinched her fist at her sides, forcing her feet to move back to the door rather than bust the teeth from the blacksmith's mouth. The bearded, potbellied man refused to offer his services to a woman, regardless of how much coin she could provide him. "Why would I waste my labor on a show piece?" he laughed at her, believing a sword had no other use than decoration for a female client. Yet as he continued to cackle and spout rude chauvinistic remarks, Vez couldn't keep her mouth shut. She pivoted at the doorway and spoke darkly before exiting, "It is a pity I do not have one of my show pieces on me today, for it would look lovely lodged in the side of your skull."

It was the third blacksmith she had visited that morning, all equally uninterested in offering their services; the first two refusing when she attempted to bargain down to a price her purse could afford.

Back on the streets she would find the locals gathered along the city's main pathway, excited as if they expected a parade to pass by. As she got closer she realized they were awaiting the arrival of another caravan of guests - Elves. She stood behind the front row, her black scarf hooded over her ears, watching as they rode past on their regal horses, their heads held high, draped in riding cloaks of silver and ice blue, many with hair the color of the moon. They were not the Elves from Rivendell, for Lord Elrond was not amongst them, thus she deduced they hailed from Lothlorien.

The Elves remained composed on top of their steeds, staying aloof to the gawking of the onlookers who stood in awe of the graceful beings passing them. Vez was not necessarily as impressed as the Gondorians seemed to be, but it was a novel sight to her eyes to see more of those whose race she called her own. Unexpectedly, one of the Elves' eyes fell upon her; an Elf with silver hair and a face etched, even if only subtlety, by the lines of time. He locked eyes with her as he rode past and narrowed his focus, unsteadying Vez's breath at first. It was as if he knew she was out of place in that crowd; that he could see past her disguise and stare into her very essence. Disliking the feeling his gaze evoked, she returned her own, narrowing her eyes suspiciously on him though it provoked no change in his demeanor as he passed her; no, he kept flawlessly poised and detached.

Vez had already visited the prison earlier, and while at first relieved to find no new developments or what she deemed as concerns after meeting with the Captain, her brief meeting with Remi led her to believe otherwise. According to him, there had been more talk of challenging her leadership from the few higher ranked warriors; those not content to be led by a member of the former resistance. The timing of this possible coup concerned her since she could not fathom Faramir allowing the challenge ritual to take place on prison grounds; seeing how it is a fight to the death. Nor did she desire to spill more Rhunic blood on Western soil. Her plan was to address all the Variags and few Haradrim on the information obtained following her attendance at the first council meeting, which she was grateful Gandalf negotiated her access to. Perhaps then she could dissuade such actions from taking place or bring them to the forefront. In any case, it brought her mind extra unease.

The only other stop that morning was to find a pair of boots. With a new sword seemingly out of the question, she could at least now afford ones of higher quality. She settled on a knee-high pair, cognac in color with flexible soles. They were of a more premium leather than her previous ones and fit her better, realizing as she walked from the door the difference in comfort level a well-made pair could offer. She would head back to the villa with at least one accomplishment, she thought, as she gladly sullied their clean soles, though it did little to relieve her lingering displeasure over failing to commission a new weapon.

She flipped back her hood as she entered the villa's grand entrance, as a courtesy to the house maids who greeted her politely. Making her way to the kitchen hall, hoping to meet the hobbits during their "second breakfast" thinking their company would cheer her mood, she had not expected to encounter a large gathering within the central courtyard; a space she had no choice but to cross. There the newly arrived ambassadors from Lothlorien were being welcomed by the Elves of Mirkwood, who must have met them there instead of at the main entrance of the villa. Legolas and his father were amongst them.

That morning Legolas acted civil around his father, neither of them bringing up the conversation from the night before. Legolas did not desire to provoke an argument, and Thranduil was not ready to forfeit his position. Lord Celeborn greeted them with his niece, Lady Adele, by his side, courteously introducing her to Legolas without knowledge that the desired proposal of courtship could never be. Legolas noted that Lady Adele was as everyone continuously stated - poised, with beauty that almost rivaled that of Lady Galadriel, and when she spoke, the sound of her words charmed all those around her.

"It is pleasure to meet the honorable prince of Eryn Lasgalen," Lady Adele fluttered her eyes on his, as she gracefully held her hand out to be more personally greeted.

Legolas took it within his, bowing his head down to kiss the back of it as was expected. He noted the softness of her skin as if her hands were hardly used, "As it is to meet you, Lady Adele" he added politely.

It was then that Lord Celeborn cleverly led Thranduil away from the couple, but not before a father exchanged a stern look with his son, reminding him of his disapproval of current affairs. This led Lady Adele to initiate the conversation when she noted that the Elf-prince's eyes were turned towards his father when she desired them to be on her, "I must confess. I should have said it is a pleasure to meet you again, for we have met once before."

"Yes," Legolas replied trying not to hide his current displeasure in his father as he slowly turned his eyes to her, "At Imladris."

"You remember," she smiled brightly, cheered to hear it, for she remembered meeting him fondly. Legolas nodded politely, not mentioning it was his friend Thalion who reminded him. She added, "I was saddened I did not have a chance to farewell you when you stayed in Lothlorien when you passed through on your journey with the fellowship. I do hope your stay there was comfortable..."

Vez cursed herself quietly in Easterling at her timing, as she contemplated turning around and heading back to the markets rather than be spotted and forced to introduce herself to another cohort of Elves. Mostly she desired to avoid causing a scene for the sake of Legolas and his father, though she also did not favor their eyes upon her. Taking a chance, she stayed along the outside corridor, walking quickly and hoping all were too involved in their conversations to take notice to her passing.

"You," a commanding voice called crisply over to her; a voice she could not ignore as she turned her head to see it came from the same Elf whose eyes stared her down in the marketplace earlier. She turned towards him and crossed her arms as he walked over to her, her eyes suspicious as to his purpose.

As he stood before her, searching her face, she felt as if he could look into her past. Like Lord Elrond's, his blue-grey eyes exuded a depth of wisdom gleamed from ages of experience. He spoke to her slowly, "You have done terrible things," a statement recognizing who she was.

Her eyes glanced beyond him, realizing all in the courtyard had turned their heads to see their interaction. Only the Mirkwood Elves knew exactly who she was, for having met her yesterday and being familiar with her background due to Thranduil's involvement. With the exception of Lord Celeborn, the Lothlorien Elves would have only vaguely heard of her, if at all.

Vez held her head slightly higher, undeterred by such a statement or garnering interest, replying solidly, "And you have done great things. Yet my deeds, terrible as they seem, have also been deemed great."

He pondered her words, finding in them a strange riddle of conflicting worldviews, finding it slightly intriguing, as well as her presence curious, "What makes _Nwalmaer_ a guest of the king soon to be crowned?"

"Her name is Vezely," a kind but commanding voice called from down the corridor, its owner garbed in midnight blue robes and golden embellishment walking briskly towards them. Gandalf was by his side and other ambassadors from Imladris not far behind. The dark haired Elf continued to speak, "The only daughter of Elured, the lost son of Dior and Nimloth," and then adding after stopping in front of her with a small smile, "And my cousin." His speech confirmed to all in attendance the hierarchical bloodline she descended from, which for most who had heard of her, had only been based in rumors.

"Lord Elrond," Celeborn bowed his head politely, the rest of the guests doing the same for the great leader.

Vezely greeted Elrond by bowing her head down with her fist to her chest, not expecting he would put his hand on her shoulder in more personal greeting, prompting her to look back up at his wise eyes. He acknowledged the light returned to her and the ear once severed reformed; she had accepted the grace of the Eldar, choosing immortality instead of the gift of man. He smiled upon her, a brief smile she returned before he turned towards the others, momentarily keeping his hand on her shoulder before going to greet them.

Vez glanced with slight bewilderment at Gandalf who knew Lord Elrond helped her out right there, a deed she did not expect nor believed to have deserved. Her eyes then shifted briefly to Legolas, who stood next to an Elf-maiden who was by all descriptors beautiful - long blonde hair, pale skin, in a milky blue dress of the highest refinery that seemed to cascade down her perfectly poised, svelte form. The assumption that this was his "perfect match" according to his father easily entered her mind. Legolas softly smiled back at her, his eyes displaying relief that the situation didn't escalate, and Vez's displaying gratefulness that it didn't also.

Before leaving, she approached Gandalf to personally thank him for granting her access to the opening council meeting, having been told by Legolas the night prior. The wizard brushed it off saying she needed all the information she could gather in order to report on the West's situation to the Blue Wizards. Then noting she sought to make an escape, Gandalf implored, "You should stay. These are your people."

Replying skeptically, "They are ambassadors and I am not."

"On the contrary," Gandalf added in drawn out tone, "I would think you stand as an ambassador from the East."

"I am not sure that makes it any less precarious," she added dryly, looking upon the group thinking of the absurdity of her going and mingling with them.

Gandalf shrugged, not necessarily denying her right to insecurity, "Well you are invited to the welcoming feast tonight. I do hope you attend."

"I will," she conceded, nodding politely to Gandalf before turning to leave, glancing upon the three Elven leaders who stood together conversing. She knew they represented three of the most powerful Elves in Middle Earth; if they deemed it so, they could decide her fate. All the Elves there were high ranking officials, long on years and experience, steeped in knowledge and the patience to use it correctly. It was not often that Vez felt completely incompetent, for she had ruled over men for many centuries, answering only to the Dark Lord above her. While her time in the resistance turned this upside down, she only truly had to answer to the Blue Wizards. Now, however, she felt as a youth amongst elders who undoubtedly saw her story as a small black mark on the larger map of witnessed time.

In the company of Thranduil and Celeborn, Elrond first apologized, "Forgive me for before. That title no longer suits her as she now exists outside of Shadow."

Celeborn, seemingly unconcerned by Elrond's actions, wondered, "The resolve of her continued existence is surprising," for he had heard her story, including her release from Dol Guldur, though he did not know the outcome.

"A feat she contributes to her adopted culture. There is yet purpose for Vezely of Rhun's existence, a role she must play on the far edges of Middle Earth before she is allowed entrance into the Far West," Elrond explained still uncertain of the details of this path.

"And you are now openly associating with her?" Thranduil asked curiously, knowing that Elrond had since kept his involvement as her protector a secret.

Elrond considered this change in stance, "Her past is devastating, her future uncertain. But the bloodline we share is already marked by misfortune and misdeeds," a truth the two elders knew well, "I do believe she can rise above it."

Thranduil nodded politely, satisfied with the answer and glad to move on to another topic of conversation, though it still did not change his opinion of her with his son. No, that was different.

Legolas watched as Vez left, a part of him wishing she would stay though knowing why she did not. His attention was turned again by Lady Adele. "I am feeling a little foolish," she mused, "For I am not familiar with this woman's history."

Thalion was nearby and stepped next to Legolas, placing his hand on his friend's shoulder, desiring to re-introduce himself to Lady Adele, "Legolas is well acquainted, it seems, as he deems her friend," his appearance bringing a bright smile to her face.

"Lord Thalion," she mused, "It is lovely to again be in your presence."

"As it is wonderful to be graced by yours my lady," he said valiantly, bowing his head to her.

"Lord Thalion and I have had the opportunity to meet again at the council between my uncle and your father following the great battle," Lady Adele explained, "He has spoken rather highly of you my lord."

"How could one not speak highly of such a friend?" Thalion stated cheerfully. "I am happy to say he has only changed slightly since we last met," causing Legolas to look at him skeptically, leading Thalion to add, "What I mean is, he now has accomplished more deeds he can profess humility to, for you will not find a more modest spirit in our fair woods."

Legolas knew his friend was elaborating for the sake of their audience, expecting such a lady would prefer to hear of his humbleness rather than his virility. "Thalion often finds a need to exaggerate," he added politely.

"You have just proved my point," Thalion stated with a small smirk, before making an excuse to leave their presence as many of the Elves were slowly trickling to their quarters in the West Wing to refresh themselves after a long journey.

Legolas walked aside Lady Adele, noting that her measured gait was impeccable and polished though he couldn't help but suspect she slowed her steps in order to linger by his side a little longer. He could not deny that she was the epitome of perfection when it came to general standards of Elvish femininity - poised, well-mannered, generous with her complements, and attractive; especially her hair, which hung to the small of her back and glistened without the need of sunlight. He could understand the compliments flown about her from his father and Thalion, and their belief in her aptness for him. Nothing about her was complicated and life partnered with such a perfect being would be blissful, cheerful, and their conversation lighthearted and king. She would be the type of Elf-maiden all would expect to marry Thranduil's son, or at least the son he was before he set out for Rivendell. Thalion was wrong, for Legolas had changed, and more than he liked to admit. As her strides grew more leisurely and more distance was placed before them and the rest of the Elves, he felt incredibly uncertain how to profess that he would not court her. Bringing up the proposal was awkward to begin with, and he knew it was impolite and ill-mannered to simply shoot it down. Yet being perhaps more fluent in these manners, she would bring it up for him.

"I am certain the proposal orchestrated by your esteemed father and Lord Celeborn was not an expected one to have met after a long journey away from home," she spoke politely, "Though it has been one much considered on my part," and to better let him know her acceptance of the proposal she placed her hand under his arm, making him into unwilling escort while adding, "And I find the prospect most pleasing." Legolas swallowed the spit in his mouth uncomfortably. She then released his arm, saying, "We do not need to discuss this more right now for I am weary from travel and desire refreshment before we gather again. I look forward to having more joyous conversations with you, my Lord Legolas," she held out her hand to be farewell'd as she was introduced, and Legolas obliged, afterwards wishing his relationship with Vez would be known, simply to avoid more of this social awkwardness.

* * *

"Vez, think fast!" Pip called as she entered the kitchen hall, throwing an apple directly at her face. She caught it effortlessly with one hand. "That's the last one," he added with a smile.

"Thanks Pip," she grinned as she started to clean it by rubbing it up and down her coat sleeve, pleased they saved it for her since it was often her fruit of choice in the morning. She stated a good morning to them all and sat down next to Merry, who was about finished consuming a plate of fried eggs and potatoes, looking at his attire curiously, "You are looking quite proper today, Merry."

Merry was dressed in his Rohan robes, with his short sword attached to his side, replying proudly, "I thought l'd look proper to greet King Eomer this afternoon, seeing as I am a squire of Rohan."

"Indeed," Vez smiled warmly, realizing she was looking forward to the arrival of these guests, and to see Eowyn again. "They will be the last to arrive," Vez added before taking a bite of her apple, "All of the Elves are in the central courtyard as we speak."

"All?" Pip asked wide-eyed getting an mischievous idea, "I'd say this calls for a little undercover observation," he looked at Merry intrigued as he sprang out of his seat to investigate, looking at Frodo to join them.

Frodo shook his head, saying endearingly as he followed the two hobbits from the kitchen hall, "They really haven't changed."

In the midst of respectfully clearing their plates from the table, Sam looked on in fatherly concern, thinking he better trail them in order to make sure they didn't get into trouble. "A good morning to ya Vez," he said apologetically in adieu, following the other hobbits out the door.

Vez chuckled to herself, realizing again how effortlessly the hobbits could turn her mood around.

* * *

Merry stood poised and proper alongside Aragorn and Faramir at the guest villa's entrance awaiting the arrival of King Eomer and his advisors; the Steward's interest in being there going beyond simple politics to matters of the heart for he would again be in the presence of the one he was courting, Lady Eowyn. Vez had also come out, standing off to the side of them, glad to see her companions in arms once more.

Eomer greeted Aragorn first, followed by Faramir and Merry, with Eowyn aside him, her hand lingering in Faramir's as the sweet smile on her face made the Steward's eyes unable to pull away. Eowyn would also greet Vez warmly, with a hug, before Eomer also held out his hand to her, as she grasped it in recognition of their mutual respect, having finally found it on the battle field.

Eomer whistled with his fingers, " _Léofara_ (Beloved-Traveller)," he called and a black mare came to his side. He took the horse's reins and respectfully handed them to Vezely."I always keep my word," Eomer stated proudly, for he had not forgotten the debt he perceived to owe her for saving his life during the battle. "I figured she is your color." Vez was beside herself, her eyes wavering in disbelief on his as her hand slowly took the reins of the horse. "May she serve you well on your journey back to Rhun."

"I am honored," were the only words that could escape Vez's mouth at that moment, as her gaze turned upon the black horse she held before her. She placed her hand on the horse's forehead, stroking down the bridge of its nose and speaking to her in Elvish, to which the horse responded kindly, her ears perking up and eyes going straight to hers.

Eowyn then prodded her with a grin, "Go on," she said while gently pushing her to the horse's side, "Ride her."

Vez jumped upon the horse's back, patting her neck before kicking her sides gently to walk her around the streets outside, desiring to race her out of the city though knowing the horse deserved rest after a long day of travel. It was inevitable for her mind to reminisce about Gizik, her trusted companion who journeyed with her across Rhun, and then to all the horses that came before her. She could count lifetimes in horses, she thought, with each steed she was a different version of herself, and today, as she sat perched atop a horse gifted to her by the king of Rohan, she was the farthest from who she was when she slayed Rohan's first king, Eorl, at the Battle of the Wold.

* * *

Legolas knocked lightly on Vezely's door, checking down the hallway as he did, weary of having been followed there. He had a short respite from meeting with the other Elves before the evening's gala where all ambassadors would feast in the great hall. Legolas had the truthful excuse of returning to his room to change, though he also planned during that interlude to spend some alone time with Vez.

Vezely had just finished her bath when the knock came, her hair still wet and her body comfortably cloaked in a blue silk robe. She had not expected him, thinking he'd be unable to sneak away for the whole day. She noted his eyes checking down the hallway before he stepped inside her room; obviously concerned of this clandestine meeting going noticed.

Closing the door behind her and then leaning her back against it, she grinned, "We are sneaking around now."

Legolas laughed slightly, watching her walked towards him, "It was not my idea to do so," he replied holding his hand out to her.

"It is better this way," she said apologetically taking his hand, but finding some optimism, "And we are still managing to spend time together."

"Though I should be getting dressed right now," he remarked while strangely noting her hand lacked the delicacy of Lady Adele's; instead, it was similar to his in regards to having calluses in certain areas due to heavy weapon use.

"Ah, you must look your best for that fair lady who will be dotingly by your side," Vez mocked, making him believe she knew his mind had wandered there, adding truthfully a moment later, "She is very pretty. With long hair, like you prefer."

Legolas narrowed his eyes, for she had assumed his preference in long hair before, though he never admitted forthrightly to it. Deciding to play her little game, he replied smugly, "She is beautiful. The epitome of perfection." Vez widened her eyes, suspicious of where he was going with these statements of glorification, "And I would be fool not to marry her." He placed his arms around her waist and pulled her into him.

"A complete fool," Vez replied bluntly, keeping her hands by her sides, not desiring to reciprocate his embrace for simple matter of not liking his words even if she suspected he was teasing.

"Then that is exactly what I am," he stated with conviction.

 _And you're my fool_ , Vez desired to say possessively but held her tongue; unwilling to admit she was feeling the bitter pangs of jealously. The thought of this fair Elf-maiden latched by his side tonight as all his kindred believed the two were courting brought displeasure in the form of a knot in the pit of her stomach. Instead she remained mute on this subject; since it was by her prodding that they kept their relationship hidden.

She brought her hands to the sides of his face, framing it in admiration for all he was to her, as he slid his hands from the small of her back to her shoulder blades, beckoning her closer. It took mere seconds for their lips to meet. Legolas felt a deep need to show his affection after being emotionally divided from her all day and with further realization that their time together would soon be at an end, he felt he had not kissed her enough. Vez needed this as well, and for him to initiate it. Too often she felt that she mischievously overreached their courting barriers simply to have what she felt was an important and desirable component of a relationship; a physical one.

Yet in the middle of this display of mutual affection, a knock sounded on Vezely's door, breaking them apart as they stared bewildered at each other. Vez hurriedly shewed Legolas into the side room, pressing her index finger to her lips and then to his as a means to communicate to stay there while she dispatched whoever it was; she did not want anyone taking this short amount of time they had alone together away from them.

Outside her door stood King Thranduil, waiting impatiently and displeased having to do so, since he knew his assumptions of his son's whereabouts would pan out correctly...


	35. Weapons and Wine Don't Mix

"My lord," Vez spoke politely, slightly tipping her head down to the unexpected visitor; trying to remember expected Elvish etiquette even if she would not open the door all the way. The inappropriateness of her current attire, dressed in a silk bath robe that crisscrossed over her front and tied precariously at the waste, now rang through her mind.

"My son is obviously here," Thranduil stated sternly without greeting, tilting his head slightly higher in suspicion of her apprehension to open the door any further, "I desire to speak with him."

She narrowed her eyes slightly, considering words that would make him think otherwise when Legolas quickly appeared by her side, placing a hand gently on her back, as his other encouraged her to open the door slightly further to allow his father to see him.

Legolas was not willing to let Vezely lie again on his behalf, knowing she was preparing to; he did not desire his father to hold it against her later. Legolas asked calmly, his hand remaining on the small of her back, "Are your intended words deemed so important that they cannot wait until another time?"

"Preferably not," Thranduil stated assuredly, caring little about taking his son away from her; his words drew a displeased reaction from him afterwards. Thranduil now noted Vezely's improper attire, for it was not a garment one should wear to answer the door or for that matter, to wear alone with his son in her personal chambers; though he should not have been surprised considering her background.

Vez turned her eyes to Legolas's, silently communicating that he should probably go with his father. He took the hand she had at her side, gently bringing the back of it to his lips, kissing it softly as his eyes wavered on hers while he stepped away. He did not release her hand immediately until he was too far from her doorway as he moved across the hall. Internally Vez was shocked he did this in front of his father; for her, it was simply throwing salt in a wound and she would have chastised him on his father's behalf if she was not so taken back by it.

For Thranduil, this affectionate display made his son's stated devotion to Vezely of Rhun manifest. He narrowed his eyes on her contemplating the now very real affection between them as his son stepped past. Vez, whose eyes lingered longingly on Legolas's, now looked with apprehension at the king, uncertain of his thoughts; she again found these noble Elves difficult to read. She bowed her head politely once more before shutting the door, feeling awkward from the whole situation.

Legolas entered his quarters, not even holding the door open for his father who was trailing behind him, and instead of engaging him in conversation, he ignored him and went to his wardrobe. He desired to openly display his disinterest in what he had to say, so he busied himself searching for the robes he would wear to the evening's gala.

Thranduil's eyes scanned his son's quarters, part of him wondering if he would find any articles of hers in there, while noting the space was more humble and meager in size than his own. His son should be staying in the West Wing with the rest of the Elvish ambassadors, he thought. Turned away from him, his posture straight, with his hands clasped behind his back, he asked a question he had been pondering all day, "Is there reason why you have not divulged this indecent relationship with others of our kin?"

Legolas breathed in deeply, trying to settle the antagonism he had brewing before shifting his eyes from his wardrobe to his father. He immediately gauged he was uncomfortable by the way he was standing; how he clasped his hands behind his back and kept his eyes averted. "You could ask the woman who I would prefer to be in the presence of right now. It was her desire to keep our relationship hidden."

Thranduil asked skeptically, "And why would she prefer to do so? What is in hiding it for her?"

Legolas now realized his father could not perceive of Vezely having a non-corrupt purpose."She fears for my reputation," then adding a moment later, slightly scathingly, "And yours."

Thranduil scoffed, admitting, "She understands what you obviously do not."

"I do not care to be discreet about something that should not be deemed reprehensible to begin with," he lectured him. "It is her reputation which should be altered in the minds of all our kin."

His father considered his son's words, though he did not reply directly to his assertion. Instead he asked, "So I have the correct understanding that you will continue this charade, courting Lady Adele as you are courting..." he stopped, narrowing his eyes on his son, his voice growing stern, "Are you yet courting Vezely? Or have you already..."

"Father," Legolas tried to deny his discomfort as he realized what he was getting at, "Vezely and I have not consummated our marriage, but we are betrothed. I know it would be unworthy of me to marry without your blessing," a small amount of relief was apparent on Thranduil's stoic face as he shifted his stance slightly. "And I still desire your blessing," Legolas added now looking at him concerned. "I understand she is not who you would deem suitable for me, for she not Lady Adele. And Vezely would be the first to admit that she is more Easterling than Elf," a brief smile flashed across his face as he couldn't help but think endearingly about her saying so, "But these differences, as stark as they appear to your eyes or how unexpected our relationship is, they matter not to my heart."

"Her past should matter, for does it not disrupt your desired future together?" Thranduil added coolly, his manner imploring his son to reconsider.

"Her past drives her towards this future," Legolas stated bluntly, having himself come to this conclusion, "Maybe if you gave her a chance you would realize she is not unworthy. She has attributes which you may even find respectful."

Thranduil again shifted his stance, as he moved his hands in front of him, adjusting the voluminous sleeves of his silver robe. It was uncomfortable having his son lecture him. Part of him desired to speak his thoughts, saying he highly doubted he could find much to respect in the former servant of Sauron, but he held his tongue. He felt depraved for his continued unkindness towards his son; to be reunited in a time of peace and hopeful prosperity, after their long tainted homeland was finally cleared of Shadow, only to be arguing over matters which he should have little say. Breaking the silence, he stated his current position, "I cannot dictate your path, but neither am I prepared to give you my blessing." Thranduil couldn't help but stand by his conviction that his son was heading down a path of despair; as a father, he could not condone it.

Legolas narrowed his eyes on him angrily before taking his chosen robes and going to the other room to change, shutting the door behind him. Thranduil got the hint that their conversation was over and left, briefly glancing at Vezely's door before going down the hall. _Absurd_ , he thought of the affectionate display he witnessed prior. There came a depressing recognition that he did not know his son as well as he thought, because he could not process him partnered with this Elf. Lady Adele seemed perfect for him; what his son saw in Vezely of Rhun he did not know.

* * *

Vez quickly got dressed in her lighter hued garments, thinking the blacks she had been wearing recently were not appropriate for a feast welcoming ambassadors who had intentions to usher in a new era of peace for the West. Not that anything she wore would be comparable to the ambassador's attire. These folk were their people's high-borns and their garments, made by the finest tailors and of the highest quality fabrics, quite readily displayed this. As she threw her crimson scarf over her shoulders, a knock sounded at her door. _Great, another unexpected visitation,_ she thought as she hesitantly opened it.

"Gimli?" Vez stated in relieved surprise; she had not seen the dwarf since the ambassadors from Erebor arrived in Minas Tirith, which made him preoccupied as host.

"How are ya, lass?" the dwarf, who looked well-washed and tryingly-groomed, asked pleasantly. Gimli knew about the tense situation her and Legolas were having, and their decision to hide their relationship from his kin. He disliked this tactic as soon as he heard it, mainly because of the reaction they believed their partnership would garner from the other Elves.

"I'm alright," she stated stolidly, not desiring her troubles to seep through, "How is everything on your end?"

"Fine, it's fine," he said shuffling something behind his back making Vez narrow her eyes slightly in suspicion. He added, "Today I was taking my kin on the tour of the grounds and we ended up in the armory. Well, walking through there I saw something familiar," from behind his back he presented two recognizable weapons, "I might be wrong, but these sure look like yours. What did you call these things? Sass? Silos?"

"You found my sai?" Vez stated in disbelief, her mouth ajar and her eyes wide as they beheld the weapons she believed were forever out of her reach. A quivering smile marked her face as she slowly took them from the drawf's outstretched hands. She immediately brought the metal tipped hilts to her temples, feeling their familiar coolness as she closed her eyes; she felt absolutely mirthful to be holding her weapons again, as if a piece of her was returned. "Gimli, thank you," she said sincerely, her eyes serious as she brought them down in front of her. She bent down to his level and embraced him, giving a brief sturdy hug, her hands still gripping the sai's handles as she did.

The gesture made Gimli blush slightly, though the dwarf understood her reaction; imagining if he had lost his beloved axes, especially the one gifted by his father, and to have it suddenly be returned to him. "It's nothing," he said brushing off his embarrassment as she stood back up, providing him a curt nod before looking back smitten at the pair of silver weapons in her hands. Suddenly not getting a sword commissioned that morning did not bother her as much.

Gimli cleared his throat and then added cordially, "Now I am also charged with the responsibility to assure your attendance tonight. If that is, you don't mind an old dwarf as escort."

Vez smirked, wondering who set him on this task before adding, "Only if you don't mind escorting an uncouth Elf."

Gimli laughed gruffly, waiting at her door as Vez placed her sai on her bed; part of her desiring to bring them with her but she knew weapons were not an appropriate accessory. Thanks to Gimli, she felt slightly more relaxed about the evening's event, realizing she was not without friends who no longer judged her based on her past.

* * *

The white marbled hall was already brimming with ambassadors when Vez entered aside Gimli, their ears hit with the sounds of conversation and soft music playing. It was a formal affair; even the dwarves looked prim in their best attire and beard embellishments. However, it was undeniable that the Elves stood out with their tall, graceful forms, in their voluminous, regal robes, their long shiny hair, and gold and silver circlets. It was encouraging to see some mingling between the different races already taking place: Lord Elrond and some other Elves aside the hobbits and Aragorn, the men of Dale and dwarves of Erebor in discussion with Eomer and his ambassadors from Rohan. This era of peace depended on conviviality.

Soon filled wine glasses found their way to people's hands as servers swept through the esteemed guests with their silver serving trays. Aragorn with Faramir by his side addressed the crowd from the front of the hall, welcoming all to the White City and desiring for them to enjoy the evening's gathering as a start to celebrating this new era. The toast set the night's tone to one in favor of light conversation and merrymaking rather than the business of ruling their respective realms; that was to be saved for the upcoming council meetings.

Vez was introduced by Gimli to the dwarves from Erebor, including his father, Gloin, who stood as an older splitting image of his son. "This is the dark elf witch of the Balchoth?" Gloin asked in sudden recognition while meeting her, making Vez think this moniker must be the one that traveled through dwarven halls since it was what Gimli called her on the edge of Fangorn when first they met.

"Hmm, she goes by Vez," Gimli stated a bit sternly on her behalf.

"That title is not so offensive, actually," saying amused while placing a hand on Gimli's shoulder; grateful it wasn't "the bitch of Rhun" or some other less savory title that existed and passed through her ears. "It is nice to meet you, Master Gloin," she said placing her fist on her chest and bowing in Easterling greeting, adding, "And if you can wield an axe half as good as your son here, then it is an honor."

The rarity of an elf complementing a dwarf was one thing, but an Elf honoring an axe wielder was another. As Vez made her brief greetings to all of them, Gloin stated quietly to his son, "I like that pointy eared one."

Eowyn also greeted the dwarves before cornering Vez to ask her something privately, "Is there reason why you do not stand beside Legolas and instead that Elf-woman appears rather closely by his side?"

Vez's eyes moved furtively over to where Legolas stood aside several of his kin, Thalion amongst them. Lady Adele stood perfectly poised right next to him, a doting smile plastered across her oval face as her bright eyes looked upon the prince affectionately as he spoke. " _That_ is the woman his father would prefer he'd marry," Vez stated narrowing her eyes, not hiding her annoyance. "We are keeping our relationship discreet, as to not cause contempt from his kin."

Eowyn was confused by this, but before asking a follow up question Faramir appeared by her side, turning her attention and instantly igniting a smile on her face. Faramir had intended since the start of the event to steal Eowyn away from anyone who happened to be near her. That it ended up being Vez was simply a coincidence. The Steward greeted her cordially, "Lady Vez," as he internally reveled in the fact that she held contempt for that title.

"Steward," Vez replied back with a curt nod and unimpressed look on her face. She knew Faramir and her would maintain their dislike for one another, but she hoped for Eowyn's sake not to openly display any of that contempt near her. "I will leave you two alone," she said pleasantly to Eowyn, though uncertain where she would go next.

In that brief interval, her eyes again glanced over at the group of Elves Legolas engaged with, only to witness Lady Adele's dainty hand flutter up to briefly touch Legolas's forearm, as she politely chuckled at something that was said. Vez turned her narrowed eyes away, instinctively downing the glass of wine in her hand, thinking it was probably a good idea she left her newly returned weapons in her quarters. She then grabbed a second glass of wine from one of the servers who passed her by.

"Lord Elrond," Vez kept the glass from her lips, tilting her head down in recognition of the esteemed Elf who unexpectedly came up beside her as she turned around.

"I would very much like it if you joined me, for we have had little opportunity to get to know each other," he stated pleasantly, bringing a hand around her shoulder and leading her by his side.

"I would like that," Vez replied warmly, though surprised to be asked, "I believe what we know of each other comes from the mouths of others."

"That is the case, isn't it?" he agreed. "Though I've realized you have your father's temperament."

"My father?" Vez confirmed, thinking he was joking, "From what I remember he was quiet and kind spoken. A fisherman, not a warrior." Her father Elured never took up the sword even when other Elves were called upon to fight; he preferred to live a life of peace and obscurity in the northern forests of Mirkwood alongside the Silvan clans.

Elrond smirked, adding what he meant, "Reserved he was but he also had an uncanny ability to turn others' ideas on their head." To Elrond, Vez again proved this trait in response to Celeborn that morning, showing she had a unique way of looking at the world; something he noted of her father the first they met. As Vez pondered what he meant by this she also realized he was leading her over to where she did not expect - to the company of other Elves, Lord Celeborn and King Thranduil among them.

"You have already met King Thranduil, I presume. And Lord Celeborn earlier today," he introduced them.

Vezely nodded politely, noting a brief glare of disdain in Thranduil's eyes as she did.

"Apologies for an improper introduction earlier," Celeborn stated, knowing he was remiss in his manners.

"None needed," Vez replied, keeping her cool demeanor, "I am an unexpected guest."

"Indeed, but a guest who I heard fought bravely for the Free People of Middle Earth," Celeborn added politely, his eyes centered on hers, interested in how she would respond to mild praise.

"I was just a soldier doing what was expected of me," Vez remarked humbly, trying to ignore the mention of _Free People_ , a title the West often used for themselves and one she felt demeaned the East to a land of slaves.

Her humility surprised Celeborn, for she seemed less humble in the courtyard, prompting him to ask, "This morning you spoke of the greatness of deeds I deemed terrible. Tell me what you meant by this."

Elrond shifted his stance, thinking troubling thoughts of entering this conversation, "Perhaps we should not question Vezely on her past," he stated cautiously.

"Such a topic need not be cordoned off. I would be glad to explain my meaning," Vez added respectfully, her eyes yet engaged with Celeborn's; she could tell she interested him. She suspected these noble elders could probably spend days or weeks waxing philosophical on what they considered paradoxes. Elrond furled his brow contemplatively; having desired to ingratiate her with the Elven leaders rather than create disdain. Vez, however, quite enjoyed discussing Rhunic differences as she herself continued to understand them. She smirked slightly before beginning, "Leaders in Rhun are not leaders because of their bloodline. They are leaders because they have earned the respect needed to sustain their title. But I have realized respect is conceptualized differently in Rhun. To respect ones leader means you would not dare challenge their authority. It is fealty spun with fear. Sauron understood this. That is why he had me raised by the Balchoth, one of the most ruthless clans Rhun has ever known. And I became commander of the Easterling Coalition not because Sauron deemed it so, but because I earned the respect needed to obtain such a position. And thus, deeds deemed terrible are allotted greatness by those who would follow you."

Celeborn contemplated this strange understanding of respect and the inverse leadership system, "It is known that fear is a prized weapon of Easterling warfare, though I had not known it helped dictate leadership."

Desiring to prod her further than Celeborn perhaps would, Thranduil took the opportunity to ask, "And what deeds gained you this respect?" Vez's eyes shifted to the king, surprised he engaged her in conversation since she expected he'd be disinterested in what she had to say. "Is it the killing of innocents?" Thranduil added calmly, as if asking a simple question. "How many lives did you build your reputation of fear on?"

Vez believed he knew quite well her dark deeds but desired to hear of them from her own mouth. Perhaps, she thought, he was seeking confirmation on how unsuitable she was for his son.

Elrond added slightly uncomfortable, "You do not need to answer that."

"It's alright," she stated calmly her eyes seeping no emotion as they lingered on his. She questioned back, "Do you desire to know how many innocents died by my own sword or by my orders? The truth is I do not submit these numbers to memory. If I did, I believe it would suggest I was either boasting or deploring my actions. I did neither. Now, if you were to ask how many of my men I sent to their deaths, I could tell you that exact number. You are all great leaders who have led your people to war. Did you keep count of the number of enemies who fell beneath your feet?"

"So innocents are considered enemies?" Thranduil queried.

Vez sidestepped a direct response, asking instead, "If destroying one village prevented a greater regional war from breaking out, would it not present itself a preferable option?"

"There will always be other options," Thranduil stated coolly.

She smirked, noting that Thranduil sounded just like his son, though her amusement in this was perhaps taken as her being smug since she now noted more contempt arise in his demeanor.

"Perhaps our viewpoint is one taken out of inexperience, for we have not been faced with making such decisions," Elrond intervened calmly.

Vez removed her eyes from Thranduil's glare, adding politely, "I must apologize for speaking too liberally of my charge under Sauron. Do not think I condone killing children, merely that I did not barbarically reign death and destruction without reason, even if such reasoning does not match Western morals. I often believe that is a fundamental misunderstanding the West has of Rhun; that we are all uncivilized and that explains why we submitted to Sauron. Sauron was respected by many, but the truth is the fall of Rhun was neither quick nor without considerable resistance."

"A resistance you know well of having recently fought for it," Elrond added, trying to turn the direction of the conversation back to one when Vezely was not under Sauron's rule. Vez shrugged slightly, thinking she also knew of the resistance when her armies were crushing it prior her imprisonment. "I think this continued misunderstanding necessitates more lines of communication to be opened between Rhun and the West," Elrond stated diplomatically, "For we were too long remiss of Sauron's resurgence."

"If men deem it so," Vez replied in recognition of Aragorn joining them; the soon-to-be crowned king greeting her by her shorthand name "Vez," after he greeted others in the group.

Aragorn appeared interested in discussing some private matters with Elrond and Lord Celeborn turning them away for a moment, allowing Vez a chance to say to Thranduil discreetly, "I would like to continue this conversation and another if you deem it worthy," her tone sincere, hoping to show she desired discussing with him her relationship with his son.

Thranduil stared at her sternly, exuding a demeanor of disinterest in further engagement, though for the sake of his son he considered it as she politely bowed her head and left. Vezely headed to grab another glass of wine.

* * *

"I would very much like to meet your friend," Lady Adele stated cheerfully to Legolas, having noted the strange Elf-woman leaving the meeting with the three Elven leaders. "You should call her over here and introduce us."

Legolas tried to hide his discomfort in being asked to do so; thinking nothing good could come of this interaction. Thalion immediately noted his friend's hesitation, making him believe it was his presence which made Legolas hesitant. Legolas had apologized to him earlier for having forgotten about the situation involving his brother's death in Mirkwood at the hands of Vezely's soldiers 500 years ago. Hoping not to be the one who made his friend uncomfortable or forbid him from answering Lady Adele's request, Thalion stated encouragingly, "I think that would be most interesting. I will go invite her myself."

The tall, brown haired Elf quickly sauntered off, his moss green robes swaying behind him as he trekked down the Easterling Elf, intent on being a good friend even if he did not care for the woman he was inviting.

Vez had desired a break from Elves when Thalion stepped in her path, "Lady Vezely," he stated with feigned kindness, "I hope you are well this evening."

"Well enough," she stated bluntly, as she narrowed her eyes showing suspicion of his purpose; she never trusted individuals with overly cheerful personalities. They always seemed to be hiding something, she thought.

Oblivious to her overt displeasure over his presence, Thalion remained courteous, "Would you be so kind to accompany me so I can make your introduction to the lovely Lady Adele?"

Vez almost laughed at the manner in which Thalion invited her, as if she should be honored to meet Thranduil's perfect daughter-in-law. While preferring to continue the other way she realized it would be remiss to decline, so she added unenthusiastically, "Why not?"

Thalion held his arm out for her to be escorted, but she ignored it and walked on. She would go, but not in any proper way. Thalion shook his head, trying to ignore her brutish manner.

Legolas had not expected for Lady Adele to be attached to his side the entire evening, making him obligated to introduce her to other members of the fellowship and ambassadors. While not specifically stating their relationship to each other, those without former knowledge of him and Vezely would have deduced the two Elves were courting. Legolas felt incredibly inappropriate and awkward in the situation. Luckily for Legolas's sake, Thalion had not lingered too far; the Woodland Elf also enjoyed the opportunity to be introduced to others by his now esteemed friend. Legolas took note of Vezely's prior interaction with his father, and while not knowing the content of that conversation, he could not imagine it being pleasant. He now felt ashamed to be putting her through another spate of discomfort.

As Vez approached the couple, her eyes on Legolas's, she instantly read his apology, making her assume correctly it was not his idea to have her join them. Her eyes then shifted to Lady Adele's, who waited patiently for Thalion to introduce them. Before Thalion stated Lady Adele's name and proper titles, he introduced her simply as "Lady Vezely of Rhun," sufficient enough he thought.

Lady Adele bowed her head in greeting, "It is a pleasure to meet you Lady Vezely, friend of the esteemed fellowship."

"Ambassador," Vez greeted the angelic being, not desiring to nod. While there were several Elf-women in attendance that evening, ambassadors from the three respective realms, Lady Adele seemed to possess a heightened beauty and grace, and by her mannerisms, this angelic being knew it.

"Please tell me Lady Vezely, when did you first meet the nine?" She asked with a smile, then looking to Legolas for confirmation, "For you were not with them when they briefly passed through Lothlorien and were tended to by my kin."

"We met in Rohan, a few weeks later," Legolas replied briefly.

"Though we have both encountered Lady Vezely before," Thalion added, having desired to go into impolite territory since discovering her presence and now being slightly put-off by her impoliteness, "In Mirkwood five centuries past."

"I do not recall meeting you," Vez replied bluntly, her eyes narrowed on Thalion's as she contemplated whether she crossed paths with him during her short stay.

"No, we did not meet specifically," he stated, "Though you met my brother."

Vez's eyes shifted momentarily to Legolas, confused of his friend's meaning, but Legolas's eyes were centered on Thalion. She could sense a similar discomfort brewing in him as when Thalion mentioned the death of his brother to Vezely the day before at the entrance of his room.

"My brother died the day you and your troops entered our forests," he explained solidly, turning Vezely's eyes back to him.

"If that is the case," Vez maintained her cool composure, not sure what the Elf desired from her, "Then my condolences for the grief this confrontation caused you."

Thalion wondered, noting some insincerity to her words, "I'm curious, for someone with your qualities, do you truly comprehend the grief of losing a loved one and the insatiable desire one will always have to make it right?"

"Thalion," Legolas intervened defensively, "Vezely lost her parents to Orcs at the age of six. She understands grief."

Vezely kept emotionless, trying to not let any resentment seep through for his presumptions of her "qualities." But this reaction did little to ease Thalion's distress; it made him more determined for her to understand his meaning, prompting him to ask her, "And did you make that right?"

Vez laughed accidentally; a dark laugh as she looked away from him annoyed. Her mistrust of cheerful personalities rang true once more, she thought. The Elf had been hiding his contempt for her behind his smile; a contempt he held since the loss of his brother. "I never did, nor did I care to," she answered bluntly, "But do not think I misunderstand your grief or desires for I learned them quite early," she explained, "When I was thirteen, a raiding party invaded the borders of our territory. Among the causalities was my cousin, Shahna, who was the same age as I. I had spent every day with that girl since I was given over to my clan and she would be the closest I ever had to a sister. When the leader of the raid was brought before us, to die for his crimes against our people, my father handed me the knife, telling me to slit the man's throat and take my journey into adulthood," she slowly traced a line under her jaw with her index finger, her eyes settling briefly on Lady Adele's disturbed expression before looking back to Thalion's wide eyes, "The Balchoth believe you are not truly an adult until you have killed." While they may have expected her to say she declined the deed, instead she added darkly, "My father said I cut the man's throat so deep I should have just taken his head off." Thalion swallowed what spit he had in his mouth, appalled to think of such a task. Her voice then switched to one of contemplation, "But no matter what momentary joy it brought me to take that man's life, it could not right the wrong of her death. It did not bring her back. Tell me Thalion, do you now desire to make it right? Shall I place a dagger in your hand and tell you to slit my throat?"

Thalion's eyes wavered on hers, for he realized how he was unable to relate to such a story. He breathed in through his nostrils and looked away from her, displeased that he could not find the right words to respond. He honestly did not know what to expect from stating this past truth to her, only that he felt he owed it to his brother.

Vezely added concerned, "Rejoice in the fact that you will one day meet your brother in Valinor, for I will never see Shahna again," her eyes returned to Legolas's who held only concern for her, but she could only exchange a distanced stare, as the emotions of the past overwhelmed her. Realizing this, she added stoically, "I think I have overstayed my introduction. Lady Adele, it was nice to make your acquaintance," and then tilting her head down, keeping her eyes averted from Legolas's, she addressed him properly, "My lord." She would turn away and head towards the exit, with Legolas's eyes following.

"Excuse me for a moment," Legolas stated politely; he had to go after her.

She did not look at him when he grabbed her wrist, making her turn towards him. "Apologies, I should not be here. I am only inviting trouble," she spoke quickly and quietly.

"It is my fault," he replied calmly, noting she sounded ashamed in her actions, "I should have warned you about Thalion."

She smiled slightly, removing her arm from his grasp, realizing it was still there, "You are not upset with me?"

"No," he smiled slightly in realization that her worries were such, "You gave them quite an uncomfortable visual, though not an unworthy understanding of your perspective."

She finally looked at him, realizing she needed to hear this, but the concern in her eyes was still apparent, "I should still go. I have had too much wine, and am less willing to keep my mouth shut."

"Stay...by my side," he said hopeful, placing a hand on her wrist again, though desiring to take her by the hand instead.

Her eyes glanced passed him, noting now that Lady Adele was glancing their way, leading her to remark uncomfortably, "Legolas, we shouldn't."

He slowly let go of her wrist, realizing disheartened that he must do as they planned. "Until later," he exchanged regret in his eyes before she left; even if he remained grateful knowing they would spend the evening together.

Regardless of the company he found himself in, Thranduil had not been without acknowledgment of his son's whereabouts that evening, or Vezely's for that matter. As the two parted their separate ways, he left his current conversation and followed her out the exit; intent on having a conversation with his son's would-be-wife.


	36. Fear and Hope

Vezely left the hall frustrated with herself, feeling she had left her mouth wander hastily. As she stood momentarily on the edge of the open corridor, glancing up at the stars, she therapeutically pressed her finger tips against her temples and allowed the cool breeze to grace her warm forehead. She began thinking it was a poor decision to drink as much as she did. Her imprisonment made her lose the tolerance she had gained centuries prior. Even when she took up the drink after, diminishing the supply of the Blue Wizard's Dorwinion Wine in order to forget her unstable predicament and disgrace of falling from power, her drunken stasis was short lived. The Blue Wizard quickly weaned her off of it by locking up their wine cellar.

It had been her intention to be more reserved at this event, especially among other Elves by deferring to their opinion and not imposing her own, even if she was prodded to. She had not wanted to stir more disparaging conversation about her behavior; to cause a scene that could further impact Legolas's reputation if their partnership was ever revealed. Now she felt she only lived up to their expectations of her and her history: the corrupted Elf given a second chance, though one which appeared precarious. She shook her head, wondering why she thought she could play the reserved role to begin with. Even without the wine's influence she doubted she could have kept her mouth shut.

Thranduil stood at the end of the corridor, watching the young Elf stare upward before she turned her attention to him, having heard his robes swaying on the floor behind him. The noble Elf decided to take her up on her offer to further converse with him, though he was unsure of his desires in this. He had already come to the conclusion earlier that it was impossible to change his son's heart, yet he mistrusted her intentions.

She narrowed her eyes, surprised by his presence as he continued to walk towards her. "I would have that conversation now," he stated sternly, his eyes also narrowing on hers.

She nodded politely, adding with warning, "One which I hope is not made in contempt, for the sake of your son."

He showed recognition of a similar concern, "My son. He is what matters most to me," he said standing a meter in front of her, his eyes interrogating hers, "And there lies my concern with a relationship he deems worthy, but one which I deem detrimental."

She looked away momentarily, breathing in deeply while looking up at the stars and remarking somberly, "I have thought the same. Legolas deserves happiness, and a relationship unfettered by uncertain fate," she looked back upon Thranduil who had not expected this response; he felt he looked upon a different woman than the one he spoke to prior. She added solidly, "I do not find your disdain unwarranted. I know what I am and what I represent to Elvendom."

He was surprised by her sincerity, but it did not deter his need to question her, "And for some reason my son believes otherwise. If you know your place, why did you pursue his affections? Why did you deceive him?"

She attempted not to roll her eyes and show annoyance in his assertion of her being some sort of harlot who seduced his son. "As if your son could be so easily deceived?" she replied sternly, mildly chiding him for thinking so, "And what purpose would it serve me to enter into a partnership during this war? My charge coming West was as messenger for the resistance; to lend my sword if permitted. You prefer to think this is some form of sick revenge?"

"For the death of those in your company, for the shame of banishment, one could come to that assumption," he stated seemingly indifferent to her blanketed annoyance.

"I also killed your guards and found your banishment without merit, knowing full well Rhun would one day invade your lands," Vez replied sternly after crossing her arms, causing Thranduil to raise his eyebrows slightly, "I harbored no ill-will for you or your son after being provided aid and sent on my way." Aid Thranduil realized he now regretted providing. He did not believe her assertion and Vez immediately noted his suspicion, for his cold stare seared right through her. She then tried to explain more congenially, "It was not as if we did not struggle with our feelings. We both tried to push them aside knowing the complications, thinking they could not be real. But you cannot choose love." During her explanation, he walked a half circle around her, his hands behind his back, his head held high, his eyes averted; yet uncomfortable by the notion of love between them. "You have a wife, surely you do not think otherwise," she added.

"Do not speak of my wife," he said strongly turning to look at her, "That is not the same."

She looked away, saying irreverently, "Of course, how could someone so corrupted love another unconditionally?" Returning her eyes to his, she could gauge from his demeanor that he agreed, "That is what you believe, isn't it?"

"It is hard to think otherwise," he stated harshly, his eyes seeming to look down on her.

"Love is a sickness afflicting the weak, making them susceptible to foolishness as their own heart betrays them," she stated defiantly before smirking slightly at her own change in perspective, "I long believed this. That it was not possible to find strength through another...Did you know I was near death after the battle of Pelennor Fields, a victim of the Variag's poisoned blades?" she revealed in contemplation. Thranduil had heard recently of those afflicted by this poison, but did not know Vezely was also amongst them. "It was then I was given the choice of the _Peredhil_ (Half-Elven). The gift of man was an easy path away from this tainted life and the remorse of what I've done. I would have been given a place of honor and respect amongst the high warriors of my clan. But instead I returned, the light of the Eldar renewed, but decidedly dishonored without permission to enter Valinor. If not for your son and the hope he has given me, I would not have come back. His love has provided me the strength to believe I can be redeemed, that I should desire it."

Appearing unmoved by her plight in making such a decision, he added his main concern, "And now my son's fate is tied to yours."

"That is why I will return to Rhun. To do what I must to set right what I helped wrong," she stated determined.

"And if you die before doing so? The Valar will not reembody you," he added, his eyes on hers, curious of her reaction.

"I better not die then," she affirmed bluntly, narrowing her eyes on him undeterred.

He smirked slightly, mildly amused by her bravado, before returning to his stoic face. "I will hold you to that," he replied seriously.

She nodded curtly, before asking a more grave question, "But if I do not come back...do not let him linger here," revealing her main fear of returning East to war and bloodshed. Her other hope in conversing with Thanduil was to make him promise he would push his son to leave for Valinor if worse came to worse and she could not return; "Make sure he sails."

Thranduil internalized her request, gaining in her wary eyes a deep-held concern for his son, and dare he thought her love for him. He nodded his head down slowly, accepting to do so, his reply bringing a deep, silent breath from her before she looked away once more. He suddenly felt sullied for his prior assumptions of her intentions in this relationship; for he indeed thought she could not harbor true feelings, that she was incapable of caring for another more than herself. It was not what he expected; she was not what he expected. Rather than say anymore he decided to return to the gala.

Halfway down the corridor, he stopped briefly and turned his head to the side, speaking as if chiding a small child, "It is considered improper to leave a celebration early."

She smirked at his random assertion, responding assuredly, "I have never been considered proper."

He narrowed his eyes showing annoyance in her response before continuing his way, hoping this short time spent away from the event went unnoticed.

* * *

Legolas watched regretfully as Vezely left the grand hall, wishing he could also leave instead of returning to the side of Lady Adele and Thalion, who he was not pleased with. He turned around to see both of them staring curiously at him, for they had witnessed this odd interaction between the two Elves from afar. He blanched his face of all emotion as he walked back to them.

Lady Adele greeted him kindly, "I hold pity for such a person. For now I understand why she is called _Nwalmaer_."

Thalion replied unmoved, with his own conviction, "You should not concern yourself my lady, she does not warrant it."

Legolas looked at his friend, saying to him harshly, "Vezely would agree with you, Thalion, for she does not want your pity," he then looked sternly at Lady Adele, "Nor does that title suit her. Vezely is a warrior who fought and almost died in this war, she deserves your respect, not your admonishment for deeds long past."

Thalion defended himself, "My friend, my intentions were simply..."

"Malicious," Legolas finished his sentence.

Thalion felt slightly ashamed to have a trusted friend say so, "It is true I do not regard her in such high esteem as you, and I had not known the true extent of your friendship which you have now revealed. I will try to respect it from here on out."

"It would be appreciated," Legolas replied grateful for his understanding.

Lady Adele added pleasantly, "It is always better for friends not to fight over other relations. I am sure Vezely also holds Lord Legolas in high esteem and will find it in herself to also accord you, Lord Thalion, similar respect," she looked upon Legolas kindly, "I have heard battles forge friendships, and I can see it in this case. But even so, it reflects highly on your character my lord."

Legolas felt uncomfortable by this compliment, realizing they viewed his friendship with Vezely as first and foremost a charitable expression of his character, but not one she would easily garner from others. He did not respond, however, for fear of having gone too far in chastising them. Lady Adele then continued the conversation onto another topic, during which Legolas noted his father returning, instantly connecting in his mind from where and thus he excused himself from their presence once more.

"Father," Legolas walked beside him, saying discreetly, "Should I be concerned?"

Thranduil had still been contemplating his prior exchange with Vezely, processing the nature of his son's relationship with her. "No," he stated bluntly, quickly adding, "But now is not the time to discuss this," providing an easy way out of the conversation. Before Legolas could respond, both father and son acknowledged Vezely also returning through the hall's doorway; their double stares not going unnoticed by her. Her eyes first centered on Legolas's, to whom she provided a small, but caring smile, before looking to the king, the smile erased as she bowed her head slightly in acknowledgment of their prior civility. He mirrored her reaction, somewhat pleased she took his advice about being proper and returning to the celebration.

Legolas looked again at his father, utterly confused by this exchange between them. As his father's eyes returned to his son's, he placed a hand around his shoulders, saying calmly, "Let us put our disagreement aside for right now, and enjoy the rest of the evening," as he led his son in the opposite direction of Vezely.

Legolas quickly grew suspicion of this tactic to not converse with him, confirming, "You understand better now," causing his father to breathe in deeply instead of responding, "She is not what you expected."

Irritated by his correct assumption, Thranduil stated firmly, "And still not what I expect for you."

"It does not matter, father," he replied with lightened voice and uplifted heart, taking slight pleasure knowing that his father was uncomfortable by these realizations, "I have found happiness in another, something you desired for me since youth. Find contentment in that."

Thranduil did not reply as they rejoined a diverse group of ambassadors, removing his arm from around his son before engaging in conversation.

Vez would stop aside Eowyn, placing a hand on her shoulder, saying with a proud smile, "My fellow woman warrior."

Eowyn grinned back at her, secretly enjoying having gained such a title on the battlefield, responding joyfully, "I have been hoping to talk to you again all evening..."

They walked through the hall taking slow steps while linked side by side by their arms; drowning out the conversations around them. Neither of them were ambassadors, thus their desired solitude from the rest of the guests could be deemed less disrespectful, but not entirely unnoticeable. While their female presence amongst a room of many men was one factor, another was their newly revealed identities - all knew of the infamous Elf of Rhun and the brave shield maiden of Rohan, fated slayer of the Witch King of Angmar.

"...It has been smoother than expected," Eowyn explained of her time back in Rohan, and Eomer's transition to kingship, "We have been oppressed for so long that all are ready to move forward."

"And yourself?" Vez asked warmly, for Eowyn had not spoken about her own transition.

"I am well," she said assuredly, despite the grief experienced in the last few weeks; admittedly having to consol the families of those who lost loved ones in the war was taxing on her. "I am optimistic about the future," she added while her eyes glanced over at Faramir, who was in conversation with her brother.

"I see," Vez queried, following her eyes destination, "So you will make your home in Ithilien?"

"In due time," Eowyn replied slightly embarrassed by her open feelings, "And I have heard Legolas has agreed to tend the forests back to their former vibrancy, along with some of his kin. I had hoped you would be among them."

Vez smiled slightly, hiding her sorrow for this not being so, "I do not know how long I will be in Rhun, or what awaits me there. But perhaps when I return..."

"As long as you return before my hair turns grey," Eowyn quickly chided her Elf-friend in jest.

"I will try and make it so," Vez replied though with feeble conviction; she knew she could not promise anything.

But Eowyn was satisfied with her response, leading her to another question, "And what is this about hiding your relationship? The whole of the fellowship knows, as do many others. You cannot truly keep it hidden."

Vez realized Eowyn made a good point, though she doubted those who knew would say anything. "It is better if we try," Vez responded quietly, "My position among the Elves is yet precarious. It is not what would be considered a proper relationship, and I do not want to harm Legolas's reputation needlessly."

Despite still not fully understanding Elvish viewpoints, but noting her need for discretion, she confided, "No words of it will escape from my mouth..."

* * *

As the event continued into the later stretches of the evening, the number of ambassadors present slowly dwindled, leaving to find rest in their guest chambers since all were expected to rise early for the first of the council meetings. The Elves, needing less rest than the men, were amongst the last to leave and Legolas would again eventually find himself uncomfortably in the company of Lady Adele, who stood dotingly by his side, expecting escort to her room. Despite this, Thranduil approached his son and requested his company when leaving. Being all things courteous and proper, Lady Adele did not say a word about this intrusion, and graciously allowed father and son their space as she continued to the West Wing alongside Thalion.

Legolas and his father would walk in the opposite direction of the departing Elves, towards the other side of the villa. "I have been thinking even more of your mother lately," Thanduil's voice trailed slightly, sounding slightly melancholic in remembrance of the one his heart belonged to. But he returned to his stoic demeanor, pushing his sentimentality aside, "Even more than I, she desired for you to find partnership in your youth, as many of your peers did. Saying she feared for those Elves who did not find love early, that they always met undesirable ends. I was less inclined to push you in one direction or another, desiring instead that you forge your own path and find your own happiness, whether that be partnered or not. Now I understand her fear, for you march into an uncertain fate because of it."

"And was my fate not more uncertain when joining the fellowship?" He replied strongly, hoping his father would not forget his emergence from this war. He then added concerned, "At least there is no uncertainty in love. Despite mother's fears and initial prodding, she also understood as you that love could not be forced, but found."

Thranduil breathed in deeply, finding minor solace in his son's triumphs in the war, and truth in what he spoke of his wife's beliefs. While keeping his eyes averted he added disapprovingly, "And an unlikely one to find it with."

"A truth I know," Legolas confirmed, realizing his father was not saying he hadn't found it. "But she is not what all might expect. Her past informs her, but it does not define her."

"No, she is defined by her culture," Thranduil realized this even more by their interactions tonight, "Which itself is a matter of concern."

At this moment Vez rounded the corner into their corridor; her eyes were downcast, investigating a knick in the handle of one of the sai gripped in her hands. She had left the event earlier than Legolas, returning to her room and grabbing her newly returned weapons from her bed, intent on going to the veranda to pass the time by practicing her positions before Legolas could meet her there for their clandestine time alone. Practice was not something completely warranted for her as a well-honed fighter, a weapon in her hand was as second nature, but separation from them made the rote task seem appealing and perhaps, even a means to relieve some stress.

The sight of the two Elven lords would have stopped in her tracks and turned her around if Legolas had not engaged her with an inviting voice, "Your weapons are returned," he stated with a small smile, hoping she would not be deterred from her path.

The prince's tactic did momentarily set her at ease, as she tried to forget his father was next to him as their steps brought them closer together. Still surprised by it herself, she explained, "Gimli came across them in the armory. They are a bit beat up from the last battle, but it relieves me from having to commission a sword," having flipped and observed the one's blade when she stopped in front of them; it appeared dull and in need of sharpening.

Legolas could tell this turnaround put her in better spirits. Having not forgotten his father's awkward presence, he added in explanation, "Vezely lost her possessions after the battle of Pelennor. And the healers unfortunately discarded these."

"And my sword was cleaved in two by the axe of my former second in command," she added disparagingly, still sore about it.

"I did not know that," Legolas stated in surprise of this information, not knowing details on the intensity of her last fight with her falling ill right after; for he thought she simply left the sword on the battlefield.

"Well it was not something I was proud to have happened," she shifted her stance slightly, then adding to him bluntly with a smirk, "Even if the man met his end soon after." Legolas smiled and slightly shook his head at an expected response; a smile she then returned until her eyes shifted upon his father who was again impassively observing her.

"It seems as if you need better weapons," he stated in a disapproving tone.

Trying to remain as pleasant as possible, she agreed, "Indeed, these aren't even Easterling militia grade. Taken from a Corsair, East of the Havens of Umbar."

"Taken?" Thranduil repeated with his eyes narrowed just slightly which only furthered her acknowledgement of his suspicion; he knew she meant _stolen_.

"Well, he no longer had any use for them," Vez added firmly, not willing to be shamed for taking from the dead. Thranduil continued to gaze at her. "In any case," she turned her eyes to Legolas's, thinking it would be a good time to excuse herself, "A good evening to both of you, my lords," she bowed her head down and then smiled at Legolas before pivoting and continuing in the opposite direction.

"And where are you going with weapons at this time of night?" Thranduil called to her sternly, again as if a child needing to be scolded.

"Father," Legolas quietly admonished him.

Vez stopped and turned her head, saying sarcastically with one eyebrow raised, "To murder someone," a smirk then graced her face and she flipped her sai around in her hands before continuing on her way.

Legolas contained his laughter as he watched her saunter off. Admittedly he was amused by her brazen attitude towards his father; an attitude he knew the old Elf currently deserved and one he hardly, if ever, received from others.

After they continued their stroll in silence, Thranduil asked his son, "Does she always act this way?"

"You mean uncouth and slightly irreverent?" Legolas queried, knowing exactly what his father meant, "She is of a different nature, and still young."

Thranduil had a displeased look on his face, "Your attraction confounds me," he stated bluntly.

Turning towards him and placing a hand on his shoulder, Legolas added perceptively, "Regardless, I am grateful you acknowledge our bond as true. Whatever she said to you, she changed your mind."

The optimism in his son's eyes disabled Tranduil from denying this but he would not forthright admit to it either, "But not my concern."

"I understand, and you do not need to diminish it," Legolas replied carefully, "Vezely will leave soon, and though I would follow her to the ends of this earth, I cannot. She must take her own path to redemption, and I can only promise to be there when she comes back. And she is determined to come back. History does not dictate every future. I have hope."

"Hope I will carry for you as well," the words trailed slowly from his mouth as he acquiesced to his son's decision to make her his bride; to put aside further animosity regardless of his displeasure over his choice or his fear for his future.

* * *

Instead of practicing, Vez stood near the veranda's edge trying to investigate her blades under the poor lighting of cloudy moonlight; realizing mostly by touch how beat up they got from the last battle. Variag axes weren't always the best against Corsair steel, she thought. But as soon as she noted Legolas approaching, she put down the two blades, setting them on top of the veranda's stone wall, inviting his hands to take their place. "I am so glad this day is over," she said in lieu of a common greeting, pulling him closer to her; a statement that openly displayed that the day had been stressful.

"So am I," Legolas replied smoothly, realizing her returned touch still managed to feel as the first time their hands met. "But much has been accomplished. My father now seems more accepting of our relationship. I do not know what you said, but he no longer denies the truth of our love." Vez closed her eyes and filled her lungs with the cool air, relieved to finally hear one desired outcome of their plight. "Perhaps now we need not be so discreet," he added, taking her hands and placing them around his neck, leaving them there to place his own around her waist.

"Did your father have an opinion about that?" she immediately wondered, though pleased by his initiative to hold her that way.

"We did not discuss moving forward where an official announcement would be expected," he stated, revealing another step in the Elvish betrothal ritual to her, "But I can at least provide you comfort and openly tell Lady Adele my disinterest in seeking her courtship."

"Provide me comfort?" Vez questioned his choice of words.

"Do not think I am blind to your emotions. I know her presence around me irritates you," Legolas said steadily, making her shift in uneasiness over his slight assertion of her being jealous.

"I am not irritated," she stated in poor defense, "I'm just..."

"Jealous," he added knowingly, making her narrow her eyes in slight contempt, "Even if you need not be."

She averted her eyes and sounding displeased with herself, admitted, "It is an unbecoming emotion, but she is considered perfectly suited for you and myself ill-suited, it is easy to feel insecure."

Legolas turned her face back to his, admitting as well, "A feeling I am not unaware of."

She asked confused, "What do you mean?"

Legolas now felt compelled to remove his gaze from hers, suddenly embarrassed to speak of it, "There is one man who, when in your presence, makes me uncomfortable."

Vez thought about who he meant, before asking unsure, "You do not mean Remi? ...You do," she realized, turning his face to hers showing him her surprise he could feel threatened by him. "The man's desires overstep, and he knows it. He is a divinator. Even if my heart was not yours, a general would not share her bed with one of such profession."

Legolas asked confused, "Rank matters?"

"It does when you are of high enough rank. I suppose it is not so different from Elvish hierarchies," she considered.

"We are both foolish," Legolas admitted, glad to hear any fears he had were unfounded.

"Is that not part of being newly in love? To fear losing each other before we are eternally bound in marriage?" Vez asked lightheartedly, her amused smile turning into a grin as she realized they could still have such trite worries amongst the more serious ones.

"Perhaps," he replied, a blush now forming on his pale face.

A raindrop was then felt by Legolas on his head, turning his eyes upward, as Vezely was also hit by one, also turning her gaze to the sky. "Maybe it will stop," Vez wondered aloud before the sound of thunder churned and hastened the drops from the overhead clouds.

In one fluid motion of her hand, Vez pulled her scarf over her head and grabbed her sai from the stone ledge, while her other hand remained clasped in Legolas's as they ran side by side to the covering under the corridor. Once there they would find their clothes and Legolas's hair soaked from the unforgiving downpour. Yet their spirits were mirthful, as they laughed slightly at each other's current drenched state.

Vez followed Legolas to his room, entering behind him instead of going into her own to change. "I have some extra towels we can use to dry ourselves," he said as he continued down the entryway. Wiping away the drops of water from her sai, she gently positioned them next to his quiver set which lay on the table in the entryway. As she walked into the main room, she removed her wet scarf, which saved her hair from the downpour, and placed it on the back of the wooden chair that stood aside the desk.

Legolas returned holding two folded white linen towels, and Vezely took both from him, placing them on the desk before stepping in front of him; her hands going to the bronze stylized leaf broach at his chest. She unclasped it and peeled off the sleeveless robe it decoratively kept on, removing it from his shoulders slowly and going to his side and then behind him to take it away from his body. Vezely hung the wet robe on one of the wardrobe's door hooks before going back to him, repeating the task with his long tunic's three clasps, also stylized bronze leafs. After she unclasped the third one, she looked up at his eyes, which had been curiously following her calm face, and she smiled softly as she opened his tunic, also taking it off his body and lightly running her fingertips across his bare skin as she did. After also hanging it on the wardrobe's door, she returned to him with an open towel. She placed the dry cloth around his shoulders, using the ends to remove the rain drops on his face before bringing it up to his wet hair as a hood; gently patting it to soak up some of the moisture.

Never having been undressed by another or tended to in such a loving manner was both a sensual and emotional experience for Legolas. He could imagine it being a common though intimate moment between spouses who lovingly tend to each other even if for simple reasons. But as he watched her move in silence, he felt as if he beheld a vision of their future: her as his wife, living together in a single residence. Perhaps they had spent the afternoon apart and he had returned home during an unexpected rainstorm; the travel only making the warmth of her touch and their home ever more desirable. There was a fire going, lighting the room in soft gold, the smell of Easterling spice tea filled the air, and the only sounds were the pattering of rain on the roof above them, the crackling of a fire, and...an infant, cooing.

"That's better," Vez remarked approvingly, bringing Legolas out of his dreamlike state and back to the small guestroom in Minas Tirith. The sounds of raindrops could still be heard through the open window, hitting the stone building outside and her gentle touch was still upon him. A sudden rush of emotions welled up inside of him and he placed his hands on the sides of her cheeks and brought her forehead to his, keeping his teary eyes closed as he composed himself from the intensity of what he had experienced in his vision before. She brought her hands on top of his as they remained cupped to her face; growing concerned, she asked softly, "Are you alright?"

He nodded his head before opening his now dry eyes to hers, a small, grateful smile finding its way to his face. He breathed in before reciprocating her kindness by helping her remove her short jacket and hanging it next to his rain soaked robes. He ran his hands from her shoulders down her arms, realizing the rain had soaked through to the blouse she wore underneath. He pulled out her shirt from where it was tucked in her pants, and while preparing to bring it over her head, he realized when brushing his knuckles against her, she wore nothing under it, causing him to hesitant.

"You do not have to," she said understandingly, placing her hands on his at her waist; wanting to let him know he did not need to do anything that made him uncomfortable.

But Legolas did not desire for her to stay in damp clothes nor to send her from his presence for being embarrassed, so he walked behind her before pulling her shirt from her body; lifting it over her head and off her arms. While doing this he further observed the extent of tattoos that ran down the length of her back, black ink on pale skin. The central Rhunic script, which he knew were her clan words, ran to the middle of her back, under which was a stylized sun, similar to the one etched on her ring; but his eyes did not linger. Vezely crossed her arms over her chest as he quickly enclosed her in the other linen towel, wrapping her from behind before also wrapping his arms around her, pulling her close to his chest. The rain continued to fall with thunder providing an irregular beat to the consistent rhythm of water hitting stone. With the vision still playing in his mind, he held her, not desiring to let her go. Inside he was fearful of the day soon to come when he would have to say goodbye, but hopeful for a future not yet set. Noting his lingering emotions from before, Vezely would close her eyes and allow him to hold her as long as he desired it.


	37. The First Council

The rain started to pour harder and the wind blew in through the open window, snuffing out one of the candles that sat nearby. His arms were still wrapped tightly around her, and he gently kissed her cheek softly before going to close the window and retrieve in his wardrobe one of his robes for her to wear. Holding her towel in place with one hand, Vezely used the other to retrieve and relight the extinguished candle, moving it away from the window to a small table where two others had been lit.

Legolas returned to her side, holding out by the shoulder seams his favorite lounge robe; one of emerald green velvet. "You may wear this, if it suits you," he said courteously. Keeping her eyes on his and with a small coy smile on her face as she turned from him, she removed her towel from her body, placing it over the chair with one hand while her other slipped into the robe's sleeve. Legolas noticeably blushed even if he kept his eyes high and averted as he brought the robe up to her shoulders.

"Gratitude, _my lord_ ," Vezely remarked cheekily, turning her head to the side to look upon his reddened face, before his demeanor revealed he knew she was mocking him with that title; having lately been required to use it. He shook his head amused before returning to his wardrobe to retrieve another robe for himself.

Believing the privacy of the long robe would prevent her from bringing him any more embarrassment, Vezely began removing her trousers, remarking pleasantly, "I quite like the rain when you're not stuck in it," for she was enjoying the sound of the water hitting the stone building's side and tiled rooftops. Legolas would seek his own modesty by stepping into the side room to change completely out of his wet clothes. Vez added, calling to him, "It's soothing, like hot desert winds blowing across sand dunes or snow falling on burning cedars."

"Burning cedars?" Legolas asked back, curious as to the appeal of this sound, and for it to be compared to the sound of water flowing and falling over stone, since this was the first sound Elves heard when awoken and thus, they are forever drawn to it.

Vez realized the sound she referred was something quite dark. It was not simply snow falling on a campfire, but to a few past experiences burning forests or villages as she marched through them with her armies. The warmth of fire ablaze amid a chill winter's night, the sharp smell of cedar wood burning, snow falling but not hitting the ground, and what often resulted in victory, all induced a soothing quality she couldn't now quite understand. "It probably shouldn't be soothing," her voice trailed slightly as she realized a strange disconnect between her past and present; where her Elvish heritage would hold sorrow for such wanton destruction.

He returned to the room dressed in a honey colored robe, having gathered what she actually meant and noting her thoughts had been taken over. He took her damp trousers from her hands and hung them alongside the others on the wardrobe's door before returning to her, taking her hands by her side and telling her consolingly, "I know meeting more of our kin has been taxing on you, and your heart is already heavy with burdens unmeasured," referring to her soon departure for Rhun and the unknown troubles she would face, "But do not continue to feel ashamed for thinking different, for those who love you will not judge you."

She breathed in deeply, relieved and touched by his understanding of how she felt, admitting gratefully, "I needed to hear that."

He also knew she did. He took her hands and led her to one of the oversized lounge chairs, inviting her to sit and after she did he sat in the chair opposite her; but Vezely was not pleased to be apart from him so she joined him, shifting her robe slightly to sit by his side as he moved over allowing her room. Legolas openly took her in his arms, feeling silly for not having initiated exactly what he desired. She rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes, and both listened to the rain and felt their body temperatures regulate.

The three candles would eventually snuff out and the storm would end, as is often the case with spring showers that come and go as they please, but the couple continued to rest in each other's arms both content not to think beyond their love at that moment. It is said that when Thingol first encountered Melian the Maia in the woods of Nan Elmoth, they instantly fell in love and remained entranced together for nearly two centuries. If this could have been their fate, they would have both gladly accepted it. Only the sun, streaming through the cracks of the closed window stirred them from their rest, causing them to look upon each other in the morning's restricted light. Vezely brought her hand to the side of his face, gently touching his cheek with her fingertips, tracing his jaw line before running them through his now dry hair, moving a strand behind his ear. He gently took her hand and pressed it against his chest, as he often did, holding it there.

"The rain has never brought me such joy," he said softly, causing a smile to stretch across her face as he leaned in and initiated a kiss. As their passion heightened, Vezely moved her hand under the clasp of his robe, feeling the smoothness of his chest, while Legolas's hand roamed down her back, encouraging her to adjust her position to sit in his lap. He would somehow find his hand roaming her bare thigh, which the long robe no longer covered due to her movement.

The knock at the door broke them apart from their passionate embrace, though neither desired to move to answer it; both hoped that whoever was there would leave if no sound was heard. But another knock followed, along with a voice, "Legolas, it is Thalion. I was hoping we could talk."

"I will be there in a moment, Thalion," Legolas called after exchanging a sorrowful look with his partner, immediately after aiding her in a scramble to obtain her yet damp attire from the open wardrobe and her scarf from the chair before sending her to the side room.

With his hand on the door, Legolas then noted Vezely's sai positioned next to his quiver set on the entryway side table, but being too late to hide it he decided to risk leaving it in sight, thinking his friend would not take notice or connect who they belonged to.

"Apologies for an early morning intrusion," Thalion spoke in his usual polite and upbeat manner after Legolas opened the door to him. He had been worried about the small quarrel they had at last evening's event and wanted a chance to further mend their relationship this morning. "Evening rain always brings a more glorious dawn, worth a stroll in. I was hoping you could join me, though I see you are not yet of proper attire."

"Unfortunately not," Legolas replied trying to appear relaxed, "I have been resting;" the statement not necessarily being a lie.

"As we all have after drinking enough wine last night," Thalion added with a smile, "I would be happy to wait if such a stroll suits your mood."

Legolas assumed it would be unusual for him to turn down his friend's company and especially after chastising him last night on behalf of his maltreatment of Vezely, it would be duly worrisome. So he allowed Thalion entry to wait for him, placing himself in front of the entryway table; hoping to block initial sight of the extra weapons. Thalion went and took a seat in one of his chairs, taking the book from his end table to read as Legolas moved to his wardrobe to gather the proper robes to wear for the council meeting.

"Ah," Thalion remarked in recognition of the Elvish tome his father had packed for him, "First Age Poems of Love and Lament," he added, "Somewhat appropriate."

"As my father always tries to be," Legolas replied bluntly, before moving with his clothes into the side room where Vezely was hiding.

"I escorted Lady Adele back to her quarters last night," Thalion heightened his voice so his friend could still hear him, "Her heart has settled for you my friend and I would like to believe you feel the same."

Vez, who was listening closely to the conversation from the start, raised one eyebrow at Legolas, who looked at her hopelessly as she walked over to him and mouthed silently the words, "Do you?" as she assisted him in unclasping his robe.

"I'm afraid, Thalion, I do not feel the same," Legolas raised his voice so his friend could hear; his eyes, however, were still engaged with Vez's who then appeared glad to hear him say so. After assisting him in removing his robe, she turned around with it in her hands to give him privacy to change, as Legolas added, "I will speak to her of this today, so as to not continue leading her to believe otherwise."

"My friend," Thalion started in protest, "Your heart is as stone to not open to such a beautiful light."

Vez began to snigger slightly at Thalion's words of endearment for the Elf-maiden, but she quickly put the robe she was holding over her mouth to muffle her sounds. As soon as he was dressed he embraced her from behind, wrapping his arms around her tightly, whispering in her ear, "Do not stay away from me all day," hoping to display his desire for them to gradually overcome their public separation.

Closing her eyes to soak in the feeling of his touch and his light breath against her ear, a small smile and a nod was all she could reply, and he kissed her cheek before releasing her. Both were disheartened by the breaking of another intimate moment, though the evening they had spent in each other's arms would sustain them until another came to pass.

* * *

The ambassadors had already begun to sit in their respective groups when Vezely entered the meeting hall. The wooden chairs were placed in a large expanding circle, with the inner ring reserved for the leaders or head ambassadors of their regions. Behind this circle were more chairs dispersed in rows, including chairs with tables for scribes who were poised with quills and parchment, ready to take down the proceedings to preserve for their realm's future progeny. Aragorn desired this circular construct in order to replicate the respectfulness and leveling of hierarchies he experienced at the Council of Elrond.

Of the attendees in the inner circle were King Eomer and his head advisor, an older man who also served his father Theodon, and who Vez remembered holding war council with back in Edoras . Seated next them was Aragorn and Faramir, followed by the two head ambassadors from Dale, and the main advisor from Erebor, Gimli's father, Gloin, followed by Gimli himself. Both realms had also lost their kings in the battle. The greatest presence in the hall were the Elves, most of which were dispersed in the outer circles of seats. This was in part due to their desire to show support for the coming of man, knowing it was the fading of their time, while also using Minas Tirith as a neutral meeting ground to hold their own Elvish sub-councils. King Thranduil sat next to his son, followed by Lord Celeborn from Lothlorien and Lord Elrond from Imladris. Gandalf sat by the side of Lord Elrond, the only two there from the esteemed White Council and both keepers of rings; each held in the highest regard by all who were there.

Noticing her slight uncertainty in seating arrangements, Gandalf called to her pleasantly, "Vez, why don't you sit by me," leading her to the empty chair aside him. Having been sent to Middle Earth at the beginning of the Third Age to protect it against the growing forces of evil, Gandalf believed one of his final duties before departing to Valinor was to ensure this once tainted Elf and remnant of Sauron's malice, was prepared to complete her tasks in Rhun; sensing as Lord Elrond, the role she had yet to play in this world.

Vez had not expected to be given such a seat of prominence next to him, or even to be seated in the inner circle. Just her presence at such a council felt uncanny. Her mind inevitably drifted back to her days as general of the Easterling Coalition, and the many councils she held with Sauron's chief advisors and other great leaders of Rhun. Ironic how peace, at least amongst those in attendance, was also the main agenda.

Lord Elrond greeted her pleasantly, and Vezely spoke to both him and Gandalf of the honor allotted for her to be there, to which Gandalf replied assuredly, "Peace also rests in Rhun's recovery, you should be here."

Aragorn stood from his seat and welcomed those in attendance, deeming them friends bound together in a Reunited Kingdom. He would then call for a moment of silence in remembrance of the many lost during the war; appropriately opening the first council with a reminder and precursor of what would be that morning's main topic of discussion, namely, reports of the major battles and recovery taking place in each region. These battles included the Ford of Isen and the Battle of the Hornburg in Rohan, the Battle of Dale and the Battle Under the Trees up north, the Battle of Osgiliath and Pelennor Fields in Minas Tirith, and Battle of Morannon at the Black Gates of Mordor.

The reports started chronologically in Rohan where Saruman's forces were the first insertion of Sauron's wrath on the West. King Eomer's aged ambassador provided the account, relaying the numbers slain and the forces sent to Dunharrow to then aid the Gondorians in Minas Tirith. Vez worked through the numbers in her head as the forces amassed and causalities were listed; having always enjoyed statistical assessments of war in order to find any anomalies in them; as if they might provide strategic use for later. She could not help but feel again in her former role of general as she sat there. The delivery and presentation of the information was also unsurprisingly similar to council practice in Rhun, where the presenter gave their report, allowing additional commentary from others, for example, Gandalf reported on the fall of Saruman following the Ford of Isen, followed by an open question and answer period.

Faramir then provided the full account of the battles that took place in Gondor, with the ambassador from Rohan adding his own people's casualties to the report. In the question and answer period, there was intrigue over the poison the Variag's used in the assault, many desiring to know its warfare origins, but with Faramir unable to answer many specifics. The poison known in the West only as "Mercy Sleep" had been used sparingly by Western healers to ease the passing of those fatally injured; allowing them to drift off into a peaceful slumber before assisting in shutting down their vital organs. Never had it been used outside of healing houses or for any dark purpose. This was both due to its rarity and the reluctance of healers to even house it in their medicinal cabinets, since the antidote was yet undiscovered in the West.

The concern and desire for this information came mostly from the men of Dale and dwarves of Erebor who queried whether the poison may have been used during their own battle against the Easterlings. They worried if they were negligent in letting their own people die, especially if an antidote could have been garnered from the enemy.

Gandalf, thinking Vezely may be of use in this conversation, piped in, "Perhaps the ambassador from Rhun could provide us with these details, seeing as she was the one who detected its use and provided knowledge of its antidote."

Having been content to remain silent and so far unnoticed since seated, then to suddenly have all eyes turned upon her by words of praise only to answer on a weapon she herself devised, was enough to make Vez uncomfortable; though any uneasiness could not be garnered by her cool demeanor. She confirmed, "The Easterlings did not use _Castis_ , or what you call "Mercy Sleep," in the war up north. Only the Variags wielded it. This I am certain."

The ambassador from Dale narrowed his eyes in mild suspicion, desiring to have more than her stated certainty to prove it, "Is this an official understanding of the Easterling Resistance?"

"No, it is not," Vez replied solidly, desiring to keep her replies truthful, "But I can confirm that Variag's use of Castis is novel in the sense that the poison has not been used in Rhun for warfare for more than 100 years."

Vez unintentionally further peaked the ambassador's curiosity, as he proceeded to ask, "And was its war use developed by the Variags?"

"No, it was not," she replied bluntly, not willing to offer more information.

"Then can we be entirely certain it was not used up north? Tell us, for I am sure I am not the only one at this council interested in knowing, what is the origin of this use?" The ambassador's tone betrayed his minor frustration in not getting what he considered a fulfilling answer; as he and others now queried if the Variags did not begin its use in war then its secret could not have been kept in their culture.

Vezely's eyes briefly found Legolas's across the way; his eyes betraying his concern for her imminent revealing what he himself just recently discovered in the conversation she had with Remi when they journeyed outside the gates to perform the burial ritual - she began its use in war.

Vez held her head slightly higher, her demeanor void of emotion and her eyes strongly engaged on the ambassador's as she provided him the fulfilling answer he sought, "The first and only known use of Castis in battle was in the region of Sera, southeast of the Sea of Rhun; used by the elite forces of the Easterling Coalition to subdue a rebellion that had broken out. The large number of unexplained deaths after a strategically called truce in battle instilled fear in the region's inhabitants, and easily re-secured them under Sauron's submission. I am the origin of Castis's use in warfare, and Öldür, later turned into one of Sauron's undead and then leader of the Variags, was my second in command at the time. My tactic then moved with Öldür, and remained in Khand," then she reasserted firmly, "As I said, it has not been used since, and I am certain it was not used up north."

The ambassador only blinked after he finished processing the information, sitting back down as the conversation hit a wall. Vez removed her eyes from the ambassador, and glanced slowly around the circle of ambassadors, a few shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Out of anyone, Faramir was the least pleased to now hear this, as all could tell from the bitter look that stretched across his face.

Gandalf, feeling a bit daft for not foreseeing this outcome when requesting Vezely to answer, tried to mediate, "The important thing is the antidote is now known to the West and all can pledge to never use it as such again," as he looked to Vezely sternly, who could only nod politely to him, holding no ill-will for the wizard's continued _disastrous_ attempts to ingratiate her with others.

Faramir would make a motion to continue the questions, which eventually brought up the issue of the captured Variags and Harad yet being held in Minas Tirith's second level prisons. None of the other regions held prisoners of war.

The other ambassador from Dale asked politely, "What will be done with these captives?"

"They will be released," Faramir replied, "And escorted to their homeland."

"That is kind of Gondor to allow, and to provide escort on such a lengthy journey. If we can pledge assistance in this task," the ambassador started as an offering of solidarity between the reunited realms.

Faramir replied in kind, "Assistance is not needed. They will be escorted by Lady Vezely, who the prisoners have chosen as their leader."

"Chosen as their leader?" The other ambassador who asked the question regarding the poison remarked surprised.

"It is, from what I understand, customary for Easterling clans to fall under the leadership of the one who killed their leader. Lady Vezely killed the leader of the Variags at the Battle of Pelennor Fields, and requested the title, to which they accepted," Faramir explained judiciously, trying not to betray his own displeasure at this development. "Neither Lord Aragorn nor myself have any doubt in her abilities to attend to this. Nor do we want to create any ill-contempt with those men we return to Rhun, which sending them locked in chains and surrounded by guards would do," Faramir hoped to leave the worries there.

"Perhaps I am confused by this... _Easterling ritual_ ," the ambassador from Dale replied, his tone betraying his contempt for the enemies responsible for slaying his king and people, as well as a growing suspicion of the Easterling Elf who currently shared the inner circle, "But I will defer to your position on this operation."

Vez starred strongly at the ambassador during Faramir's explanation, intentionally trying to make him uncomfortable. The man would looked at her momentarily after his reply, before quickly averting his eyes and shifting in his seat, causing Vez to smirk slightly, mildly amused by still having such a dark influence. The exchange did not go unnoticed by Thranduil, who marked it another example of her crudeness.

The reports continued onto the northern regions. It was then that Vezely finally learned the details of the invasion of the Easterlings and how after three days of close-quarter fighter, the men of Dale and their allies, the dwarves of Erebor, were unable to hold back their forces, causing them to retreat into the Lonely Mountain. It was at the Gates of Erebor that King Brand, grandson of Bard the Bowman, and Dain Ironfoot were slain. For seven days the men and dwarves barricaded themselves inside the mountain, and only until news from the South of the defeat Sauron did the Easterling forces grow disheartened enough to allow the siege to be broken and for the allies to easily "chase" them out of Dale, or at least that was how the ambassadors described it. Without a doubt, however, if Sauron had not been defeated at the Black Gates, the Easterlings would have succeeded in taking Erebor and would have marched into Mirkwood, fighting alongside the Orc and Warg armies of Dol Guldor. The Elves would have been no match for the two forces and the north would have lost.

Only by a strange twist of fate did Vezely not lead his host into Dale, and she felt strangely disgusted when hearing, as the ambassador put it, her would-have-been men losing heart and retreating. Something with the description didn't sit well her, as Easterlings are trained to fight to the death no matter the circumstances. Thus, she grew suspicious of these deserters. As the question period commenced, she quietly raised her hand to be allowed to speak, to which Faramir offered her the floor.

Standing from her chair, she stated her suspicion firmly, while maintaining some politeness, "I must question the ambassador's description of the retreat of the Easterling legions. Please know that my request for these details is invaluable so I can return to Rhun with an idea of the dynamics taking place there." The ambassador nodded curtly before she continued. "Easterlings are trained to fight to the death, no matter the circumstances. If these men were yet under my command," she held her head slightly higher, "They would have taken Erebor, if not for Sauron then for the glory of Rhun, fearing not the impending battles to be waged. So it is difficult for me to believe all forces simply retreated."

The ambassador explained, "Well, of course there was an extended battle following the siege breaking, but a significant amount had left prior, dwindling their numbers enough for our victory."

"Would you be able to remember the crests of the forces that remained?" Vez queried.

"What do you mean by crests?" The ambassadors wondered.

"The Easterling Coalition is not one force. It is a federation of nations, bound only in solidarity under Sauron's rule with each maintaining their independence. Militia are cloaked in the same armor, carry standardized weaponry, and are clothed in the same colors, but their shields hold crests of their homeland, differentiating where they hail," Vezely explained. "I have suspicions of who these deserters may have been. If one among you has remembrance of the crests of those who remained," she looked at them hopeful.

An ambassador of Erebor raised his hand, "I may be of assistance," he said slightly uncertain, having been in charge of casualty reports.

"Vidar is in charge of record keeping," Gloin explained, "He has the keenest remembrance among us."

Vez nodded before walking behind her chair to the Rivendell scribe's station, the Elleth looking at her calm and curious as to her purpose "Can I borrow this?" she spoke while abruptly taking the quill from her hand and shifting a piece of parchment in front of her, never really intending to gain permission. Vez began to quickly sketch several crests onto it, most of which held simple geometric designs combined with compound Rhunic script. There were six crests in all, marking the six pledged territories of the Easterling Coalition, many of whom had further subdivisions or tributaries under one banner, but she could set aside those details for now. The room waited patiently as she worked, though it didn't take her long.

"If you could tell me those unfamiliar," Vezely requested after she handed Vidar the parchment. The gray haired dwarf took from his pocket a single spectacle to get a closer look.

A moment later, he gave her his conclusion, "There is one I am completely certain not having seen amongst the left shields. The others appeared but I cannot provide you exact amounts," and he pointed to the crest unrecognized - a compound character of the ancient Rhunic word meaning darkness or without light.

Vez's demeanor betrayed her disdain at the crest he pointed to, having held suspicion of the 'People of the Dark Lands' since she oversaw the negotiation of them joining of the Easterling Coalition; a task only achieved near the end of her reign as general. Forgetting herself for a moment in troubled thoughts, she spoke, "Gratitude, I have no further questions for the ambassadors," and she returned to her seat.

Aragorn, curious as to her complete dismissal of further questioning, asked, "This information provides the lead you had hoped for?"

Vez replied with slight discomfort, "It does. Thank you to the council for allowing my presence."

Aragorn looked over to Lord Elrond briefly, who exchanged a glance silently conceding they move on with the reports. The meeting concluded well past lunchtime, making the dwarves less than pleased as they exited the council room intent on going to the dining hall.

"Lady Vezely, may I have a word?" Faramir approached her after she arose from her chair, others still in ear shot of what he would say, "Why did you not relay this information on the poison's origin when we conversed on it?" For she had briefed Faramir about the poison, but notably left out its origins. Now he was displeased with looking incompetent during the council.

"It was not asked," Vez replied bluntly, his topic of choice making her further disinterested in conversing with him.

"It would have been a useful detail to have been given, and rather convenient of you to leave it out, seeing what it implicates," Faramir said betraying his irritation over her attitude.

Miffed by his insinuation, Vez repeated with a laugh, "What it implicates? As if I avoided telling you in order to keep my name out of your book of bad deeds."

Despite what he assumed was her attempt to raise his temper, Faramir tried to remain cool, remarking quietly, "A little repentance mends misunderstandings of such deeds."

"What do you want from me, Steward?" Vez was now noticeably annoyed, and she did not lower her voice as he just did, "Do you desire that I bow before you with water in my eyes, displaying remorse that my past sins brought death to your people?"

Noticeably uncomfortable by the scene she was now causing, as many had turned their eyes in their direction curious of it, Faramir stood up straighter, "If you are even capable of displaying such remorse, for I have not seen it," he stated truthfully, for he had never seen her display sorrow publically.

"Then where do I start?" she asked somewhat hastily, heightening her voice, "And should I do the same for the ambassadors of Dale and Erebor, since the Easterlings carried on battle techniques that I weaned into their regiment? And for the Elves of the Woodland Realm, whose forests burned faster via aid of an incendiary substance whose use I helped spread? And what would this accomplish, Steward?" She firmly inquired him, undeterred by those who were now staring.

Faramir shifted his stance uncomfortably, as Aragorn came up next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder, asking calmly, "Is everything alright?"

Vezely did not remove her eyes from Faramir's as he spoke to him, "Just a minor misunderstanding," then adding courteously before walking away, "Gratitude for your time, Lady Vezely."

"Nothing, Steward," she called to his back a second later, "It would accomplish nothing. Words mean nothing. They are said and then dissipate into the air. I prefer to speak through my actions."

Faramir did not stall in his retreat, and Aragorn nodded politely to Vez, though with a hint of disapproval of her behavior, before leaving after him.

"You need to control your temper," Lord Elrond said with quiet concern, coming aside her.

"My temper? The man has warranted a punch in the face since we first met and yet he stands un-battered, so I think I have controlled my temper quite well," Vez replied nonchalantly, her eyes yet stern on Faramir's back as he left the hall.

Sensing both a tumultuous history between the two and Vez's cultural differences coming into play, Elrond stepped carefully, "Even so, it is better to leave without enemies."

Vez knew Elrond was providing her friendly advice, so she adjusted her behavior, saying calmly, "I do not disagree, even if it is unlikely I will ever see the man again."

He rightfully connected her statement to his prior thoughts, "I sensed distress over what was revealed today by the ambassador of Dale."

"Minor," Vez lied, then saying politely, "But the matter should not be of the West's concern."

"Perhaps not at this moment," Elrond added considering, "Though, I would very much like to hear the history of whom this unaccounted for crest belongs to. Why don't you accompany me to dinner in the West Wing tonight where such a conversation may be of interest?"

Not willing to turn down Elrond's request, Vez accepted, and afterwards Elrond left to ask questions of other ambassadors. Legolas, who had watched with heightened concern the conversation between Faramir and her, knowing too well her feelings on the man, had just left aside Lady Adele, politely asking for her company in order to discuss the breaking of their courtship.


	38. Sage Advice

The black mare galloped swiftly across the open grasslands, carrying its light-weight rider several leagues east of the white city walls. "Good, _Léofara_ (Beloved-Traveler)," the hooded Elf praised the young animal after slowing her to leisurely gallop, patting her neck and then halting her. Her coal lined eyes gazed eastward and as she did, a deep sadness consumed her. Putting into words her thoughts, she spoke personally to the horse, "Soon you and I will leave the lands that bore us, and if we shall ever return together I know not." She wondered how long it would take to resettle Rhun, and whether her aid in this would be enough to appease the Valar to allow her entrance into Valinor. So much uncertainty now lay before her feet and she trembled slightly, as the hope she had was unavoidably mixed with doubt.

It was the first time she had truly ridden the Rohirrim horse, finding her swiftness and assuredness befitting a king's line. She desired nothing more than to get away from Minas Tirith that afternoon, as if a momentary respite from its walls would allow her a means to forget the worries the morning had wrought; but it did nothing of the sort.

After having her sai sharpened by paying a few coin to a local smithy to use its shop's large sharpening stone and buying a small pocket stone of her own to sharpen them, she stopped briefly at the second level prisons to discuss with the Variag Captain on what she learned during the Reunited Kingdom's first council meeting - the possibility that the Easterling legions from the Dark Lands, deserters at the Battle of Dale, were returning home to start the expansion of their long desired empire. At the time, Derufin, Gondor's translator of all Rhunic languages, was not there to ease drop on her conversations. The guards, while at first hesitant of allowing her to hold private meetings, were easily persuaded; knowing well her "unstable" temperament.

After talking with the Captain, she also met with Remi, wanting to know whether the prisoners were still divided over her leadership and if a challenge was imminent. Remi was his usual self, taking pleasure in the covert task he was given because one, it allowed him an opportunity to have her company, and two, he enjoyed playing two sides because there could always be something to gain.

"...The man you already provided the head injury to," Remi spoke of the elite warrior who, even after repeatedly experiencing Vezely's fist to his face, had not been persuaded to accept her leadership.

"Yaban?" Vez spitefully spit the man's name, "I had a feeling the last of Öldür's elites would not settle. It is against their code of honor."

"He is back to full strength and has been training in the courtyard, as others have," Remi cautioned her, "None are able to beat him at hand to hand combat."

That the man would make the challenge did not surprise her for she suspected this when he first stood up to protest her. Though this was not to any gift of foresight, but to understanding the Variag's culture which stood in close proximity to the Balchoth's. It was also unsurprising that the Captain willingly acquiesced to her control, for the man was wise and knew that upon reaching the borders of Khand, he would be given, by her leave, command over those troops, and if he so desired and met no opposition, he could retain his position of power in the region. But Yaban, as one of Öldür's elite ranks, he not only had a chance in challenging her, but as the only survivor of these ranks, it would be viewed as a dishonor not to attempt retribution for his slain commander. Vez had sidestepped a full out challenge upon her first meeting with him, aided by her quickly inflicting him further injuries. But now that the man was at renewed health and according to Remi, training, it was only a matter of time before he would make another stand.

"So he may challenge me soon then?" Vez queried, an amused smirk stretched across her face, for she had not had the experience of being challenged for many ages.

"Highly likely," Remi replied gauging her interest while comfortably leaning back in his chair, "Though to have such a match on prison grounds, that _yavonka_ would not be pleased," he said, using their disrespectful pet name for Faramir.

"The Steward would not condone it," Vez corrected him as she pondered this further. "In any case," she continued assuredly, "I will address the troops on Rhun's situation tomorrow morning. And then I'll gauge Yaban's desires."

He smirked, saying pleased with future possibilities, "To see you in action, it will be as if the gods have granted me half of what I desire."

Vez narrowed her eyes, saying suspiciously, "Half?" Remi's eyes, however, let her know exactly what he meant. "Divinators are delusional, but you go well beyond that," her annoyance was obvious and she not too subtly reminded the man of his unworthy title.

"And if I forsake that title, and fall in line as one of your warriors," he inquired leaning forward from his chair and placing his hands on the table.

"And you would remain delusional," she said crossing her arms, "You will receive nothing from me but distrust and a broken nose if you so deserve it. And this current arrangement will end at the borders of Khand, where I leave you and continue on my route," she then stood up, deciding the conversation was finished.

"That blonde Elf will be accompanying us then?" he asked sarcastically, standing up as well.

"He will not," Vez replied bluntly, but not desiring to share her feelings on this matter she said no more and left the room. Remi followed her, a smirk gracing his lips as he foolishly believed he still had a chance.

* * *

Legolas escorted Lady Adele down a corridor and into an empty courtyard, desiring some privacy for the conversation they needed to have. She had slipped her hand under his arm as she kept pace poised proudly by his side, making Legolas uncomfortable but unable to do anything but allow it.

"Apologies for my inability to escort you back to your quarters last evening, my father and I had to talk," Legolas started the conversation once they reached the courtyard's central fountain.

She softly tugged his arm as she sat down on the fountain's ledge, requesting that he should sit beside her, "Apologies are unnecessary," she replied courteously with a sweet smile, "Though I do hope your father and yourself were not caught in the spring rains which graced us thereafter."

"Fortunately, we were not," he replied as he sat beside her, feeling mild discomfort with partially lying to her.

Her clear blue eyes looked upon him as she spoke calmly, "There is cycle to this season, where water necessitates growth and growth necessitates water. Dark storms aid green life, even in a city sparse of natural comforts," her eyes then turned to admire the courtyard's row of planted trees, for the greenery in the city was sparse but still beautiful.

Legolas noted her voice's crispness, so airy and light, and he imagined her ability to recite poetry was grand. "That is indeed true," he returned a friendly smile, for no Elf could not be prompted to feel joy by her great beauty in voice.

"I have been writing words lately," she replied, as if knowing his thoughts, "Of the joy of seeing a world renewed and to embark on unknown paths alongside a trusted companion," her eyes implicating this new companion she wrote of was him. "I would be willing to recite them for you my lord, if it would please you to hear my humble attempts at lyrical beauty."

Legolas averted his eyes, feeling ill in his stomach for such an offer would be considered a heady flirtation. He knew he had led her on and now must return words of rejection, "Lady Adele, I am afraid I have to decline such an offer."

Lady Adele's radiance did not fade as a quizzical look spread across her face."Do you not enjoy the recitation of poetry my lord?"

"I of course enjoy hearing such words spoken," Legolas replied politely.

"Or do you prefer song? For I have heard our Woodland kin love music and singing just as much as they love the forests they dwell in," she added hopeful that he was not simply denying her offer.

"This is true of Wood-Elves, but it is for a different matter that I must decline your offer," Legolas replied steadily, concern in his eyes for the hurt he may cause, "I will soon leave these shores to Valinor. I have heard the call of our people upon the black ships that bore me to Pelennor. My father knew this not when he discussed our courtship with Lord Celeborn and in folly he hoped to find for me joy when such joy needed not be given. I did desire to speak these truths to you upon first we met, but such matters needed to be conversed with my father, for much we had to discuss after our time asunder, and because this arrangement was made with political intent in mind. I apologize for any falseness in my steps since our first greeting and that I did not tell you that my heart is forever unavailable to give in partnership to another."

For once in her long life, Lady Adele stalled in replying, not certain what was the proper reply to such a rejection. Then she asked carefully and with hope, "Is your heart closed to nothing but the stated beauty and bliss of the shores afar? Would you not seek a companion to embark to these unknown shores with you?" Referring back to her poetry and finding revelation in her written words.

Legolas had a strong urge to reply with the truth - that his heart was open to one who would journey to those shores with him, yet he could not yet say her name or make such an announcement, not yet. "Lady Adele, you are of beauty and wisdom, the light of our people shines bright within you and the warmth of your presence felt by many, but such a companion for this journey or for this life I seek not." He then added some finality, "My father will have already spoken about this with Lord Celeborn," for last night he requested him to do so, then adding politely, "I do hope you and I can remain friends, however, especially should we meet again in the lands far west of here."

Lady Adele could tell he was not speaking all his thoughts on this, though she had no reason for suspicion or to distrust what had been said. "Friends we shall remain then," her smile calming Legolas's worries, even if there was a hint of sorrow in her eyes for the prince she had lost, though never truly had.

"We should return," he said a moment later, standing up with his eyes towards the route they had walked. He politely offered her an arm to escort her back, and she accepted it in silence. In her mind, however, she thought through her missteps and misunderstandings since first meeting him. She had not foreseen this rejection and wondered if his heart only truly longed for Western shores.

* * *

Vezely returned Léofara to the stables, finding Eowyn tending to her and her brother's horses, and she was grateful for the shield maiden's company on her walk back through the villa. They would stroll through the main courtyard, where many ambassadors had strayed during their afternoon break from council; Thalion conversing among them. The Woodland Elf immediately took note of the weapons attached to Vez's boots, for he saw the same crude knives sitting on Legolas's entryway table. But he said nothing to his friend for they were not of interest at the time. Eowyn politely greeted some of the ambassadors as they walked past, though none impeded their steps or fully halted their conversation.

Vez knew she had ruffled some feathers at that morning's council after revealing her connection to the poison which killed many at the Battle of Pelennor Fields. That and what she deemed a minor tiff with Faramir, undoubtedly reminded all of her past servitude to Sauron. While she cared not how her name was strung through the West's history books, whether as usurper of Calenardhon, slayer of Eorl the Young, originator of the Variag's poison, or as a friend of the fellowship and warrior pledged to King Theodon, she did care for the reputation of another who would call himself her partner. She again realized she could not step lightly here, for it was impossible for her muddied boots not to make a sound.

These thoughts were but one of many that filtered through her mind as she lingered in the bath, needing one after spending the afternoon riding and in order to be semi-presentable for the invitation by Lord Elrond to dine with the Elvish ambassadors. She stayed to the point that the water grew cold and a house maid mildly aggravated after checking twice to see if she was done. But she didn't want to remove herself, feeling stuck in the water. She brought her knees up to her chest and hugged them, gaining sight of the tattooed Rhunic characters on her upper arm, reminding her of those who had challenged her for leadership in the past. She read their names quietly aloud, speaking Öldür's name, which had yet to be permanently inked, and then saying the name, Yaban.

Vez had never considered the right to challenge leadership a brutal or savage custom. While the desire to wield power was indeed part of it, as Rhun could rightfully be called a land ruled by brute force, it was also a culture which honored the right to question leadership. Perhaps the West would find such a system anarchic, but in truth such challenges took place only during times of tremendous change and transition. A death of a beloved leader, for instance, may spark a line of worthy warriors biding for the position; as was the case after Vezely's adopted father's death and the many challengers she faced in order to prove her worth. Or if a leader was deemed unsuitable or unstable, the people may choose a challenger. Internal rebellion thus had an honorable means to conclude itself. Therefore, outright chaos and rebellion rarely occurred in these so-called savage cultures.

And once a challenge is made, the leader had no choice but to accept. To decline would not only dishonor one's self and the one who made the challenge, but your life would be forfeit. It was a death sentence and the people were required by tradition and law to fulfill it; thus challenges never went unanswered. If Yaban made his challenge, Vezely would accept and fight him to the death, with only one emerging as victor. She understood this would be viewed by her kin as a questionable act for someone seeking redemption; and it inevitably led her to wonder whether she could function within Rhunic culture and still be considered worthy of the Eldar. Yet she really had no choice and after proving her uncouthness in all other aspects, she could only hope to control its timing. She needed to avoid Yaban making the challenge while the men were still in Minas Tirith. Such a fight would not be condoned on prison grounds, and she feared the repercussions of city law if blood were to be spilled. Nor did she desire to spill anymore Rhunic blood on Western soil; for so many had died far from their homeland already. The water grew lukewarm to cold and yet she continued to hug her knees and stare at the names inked down her arm, her mind mired in this and all that lay ahead once she crossed the borders of Rhovanion. And worse, there she would be far from the one who stabilized any hope she had of being redeemed.

* * *

Legolas returned to his room after the last of the day's meetings, a bath also on his mind before the evening's dinner party. After his talk with Lady Adele, he was freed from the expectation of attending her side, letting him spend time with the other ambassadors, including Gimli. The two's surprising friendship did much to break the wall between the dwarves and Elves, and there was talk of Gimli leading some of his people to Ithilien to dwell alongside Legolas's Woodland kin in order to help rebuild.

On the way down the corridor, a house maid, knowing of the relationship between the two Elves, asked politely, "Apologies Lord Legolas, I do not mean to pry, but I ask out of concern. Is Lady Vez alright?"

"What do you mean?" he replied, worry immediately seeping in.

"She went into the bath well over two hours ago and will not remove herself. I have offered her more hot water but she refused," the maid explained, then adding dutifully, "If there is anything I can tend to for her, please do let me know..."

Another knock at the door stirred Vez from her thoughts. Thinking it was the maid again trying to move her, Vez spat in a tone worthy of a displeased general, "I said, leave me be."

"Vezely," Legolas soft voice called back, "Are you alright?"

She closed her eyes and removed her hands from her knees, bringing them to hide her face. She felt ashamed when realizing the extent to which his voice sang to her heart and calmed her, meaning that she had not been alright.

The lack of an immediate response prompted Legolas to enter, his worry for her overrunning his propriety. He would find her hunched over in the bath, hiding her face in her hands. Kneeling beside the tub, he placed a hand softly on her upper arm, prompting her to turn her head. Her eyes would first find his hand covering up some of the inked names before she looked upon him

"I am not alright," she replied with broken voice, concern marked her brow and her eyes had a hint of water welled within them. He had never heard her admit this forthrightly, for she was always sure and strong, and remained steadfast in her belief in moving forward in her redemption. He moved his hand to her cheek, prompting her to say, "I worry I'll never return to your arms, that the Valar will always forsake me..."

"Shhh," he hushed her from saying any more harmful words, his heart breaking as the tears she had held for so long finally fell down her face, "Do not let fear and self-doubt overrun the hope you have built. I know not what lies to meet you, but you are an honorable warrior who will do what is right by the men of Rhun, and the Valar will know that your heart is just." He then added assuredly, as if needing to affirm it for himself as well, "And you will return to my arms and I to yours. Fate cannot keep us apart forever."

She squeezed shut her watery eyes and nodded to accept his words, which she again found wise beyond her own. After he leaned in and kissed her forward, he said lightheartedly, "Let's get you dry. You cannot stay here all night or you might dissolve," causing her to smile as he pulled a towel from the nearby rack and opened it aside her; and she took it as she stood up and wrapped it around her body with his assistance.

After she stepped out of the tub into his arms, she repeated his words in her mind, _To do what is right by the men of Rhun, as an honorable warrior_ ; again finding strength from the one she loved.

* * *

They were late to the feast in the West Wing. Walking briskly from their quarters, Vez whispered to Legolas who kept pace aside her, "Maybe you should go first, I'll arrive later so as to not cause suspicion."

Legolas cared not about arriving late beside her, "We will enter together. Besides, either way will garner suspicion, and I care not at this point."

"After today's council one would think you'd care more," Vez said sardonically, and Legolas gave her a stern eye, having admonished her just before for worrying about the impression she made.

He stood less concerned; that despite her argument with Faramir, which he did think verged on crossing the line, he believed she handled herself well in the council, telling its members forthrightly her role with the poison and questioning the ambassadors about the Battle of Dale fairly and with useful effect. Since she was not invited to other council meetings, the ambassadors had no right, in his mind, to further judge her presence here, as she was a guest of the king and a friend of the fellowship and of Rohan. Of course, he knew some had grown more wary of her, and his father told him frankly that afternoon that she verged on embarrassing herself. He did not tell her this however, for she needed no further affirmation of what she already believed. But he did give her some advice, saying if she worried so much about leaving a foul impression on her kinsfolk, then perhaps she should acknowledge it. He did not use the word apologize, for he believed she should not be sorry for her cultural differences, but to show a humble awareness of the tendency for them to cause misunderstandings.

As Legolas did not mention his father's admonishment, Vezely did not mention Remi telling her of the possibility that Yaban would challenge her for leadership of the Variag troop. She dared not speak of it, for she was committed to not letting it happen while in Minas Tirith; not until she was far away from her kinsfolk and their discerning eyes. It would also be a burden Legolas's mind need not have, especially since she had revealed to him that undoubtedly Rhun would see war waged by the People of the Dark Lands. She also spoke to him about her concerns over the impression she made at the council meeting, and his sage advice was to humbly acknowledge it. Perhaps she would take his advice, she thought, as they got closer to the gathering.

The Elves had already rejoined in the West Wing's large courtyard, where long tables were set up for them to feast under the starlight. Lord Elrond would soon invite all to sit down, but he intended to wait a little longer for his invited guest to arrive.

Lord Celeborn, who stood aside him, noted his comrade's questioning gaze towards the Eastern corridor, "It would appear your dinner guest is late," he stated curiously, adding after in the same curious tone to King Thranduil, who was also nearby, "And your son is also late."

Thanduil's eyes narrowed before they shifted over towards Celeborn's, uncertain of the meaning that may lie under his desire to mention this. He had spoken earlier with Celeborn about the refusal of his son to court his niece, Lady Adele. Celeborn was not upset by this, for he did not desire to force another into partnership nor did he misunderstand Legolas's reasoning, which Thranduil said was to heed the call to sail westward. Yet Celeborn's discussion afterwards with his niece left him confused, for Lady Adele told him she perceived another reason lay behind Legolas's refusal; one deep seeded in his heart and now he wondered what it could be.

Turning into the long entry corridor, Vezely's ears picked up unfamiliar though soothing tunes coming from soft noted instruments, one with strings and possibly a flute, and she could smell the scent of rosemary and thyme, both herbs uncommon in Rhun and only experienced by her in the West. Before passing far enough to be seen at the other end, Legolas took the hand by her side and squeezed it slightly, "You will be fine," making her wonder if he could sense her anxiety as they got closer. She would remove her hand from his just before entering, both noting that Thranduil was the first to look upon them; condescendingly.

Both Vezely and Legolas went towards the three Elven lords and Vez greeted Lord Elrond, saying sincerely, "Apologies for my tardiness. I have no excuse for it."

"As am I equally apologetic," Legolas added politely, tilting his head down to show reverence to them all.

Lord Elrond was less inclined to be offended by such trivial matters, "That is quite alright. We have not yet sat down to eat, though we can do so now." And he called on all to take a seat, after which they would be served wine and food from the guest house kitchens.

Relieved of his obligation of forced courtship, Legolas without hesitation sat down next to Vezely. She was seated aside Lord Elrond, with his father and Lord Celeborn on the other side of the table. The Elf prince received a concerned stare from his father, who pondered his son's intentions this evening; he was certainly not prepared for them to make any official announcement concerning their engagement, as he realized he knew not when he'd be prepared for that.

When a glass of Dorwinion wine was poured for them, Vezely looked at Legolas and in silence the two briefly exchanged an understanding of her past consumption of it, and through her brief smile she promised him she'd not to consume it too quickly. The music, which had already sounded foreign to Vezely's ears, again garnered her attention when the harpist began to sing, causing her eyes to flick over towards her.

"Ah, a song well-loved and sung often to start a feast," Elrond said noting Vezely's interest, "Though fresh to your ears I presume."

Vez returned her gaze to him, surprising herself that the music garnered her awareness, "You presume correct. I have only recently become accustom to speaking the Elvish tongue and save for sparse memories of my mother's voice in song, know not its sound in music."

Lord Celeborn found this information curious, "Of how many years were you when taken?"

"Six," she replied politely, "And only recently have the memories from those six years returned to me. I lived most of my life without knowledge of the Elvish tongue, and knew even less of Elvish history since crossing Rhovanion, where Lord Legolas kindly offered me some tales to bide time between battles," she smiled over at Legolas showing her gratefulness and he returned a humble smile at her before she continued, "You must understand it is strange to be seated with those whose histories are a part of that lore just learned, for I am young and of a world of men who live well outside your purview."

Elrond considered her words which appeared to be thought out in advance; responding kindly, "We know you are unique to our kind for a variety of reasons, and this is certainly one of them. But it is good to be reminded of your estrangement."

"It is an attempt to apologize for my continual missteps," Vez added to be more direct. "Six years spent under the leaves of Mirkwood," her eyes then turned upon Thranduil when saying his kingdom's name, "Is not sufficient to count myself Eldar in culture."

"We shall not judge you by this," Elrond stated kindly, accepting it as an apology, and one thoroughly unexpected, "For if your mind remains open with a desire to learn and accept council, which I suspect it is," a trait all deemed as characteristically good, "Then ours also shall not be closed."

Vezely replied humbly, "Thank you," and she tilted her head down to show appreciation for his acceptance and Legolas felt incredibly proud that she initiated this conversation; and on his face, such feelings of his part in prodding it were apparent to his father and Lord Celeborn from across the table.

"And what council would one from a world outside our purview seek?" Celeborn asked her slightly skeptical, and Elrond realized he would have asked the same.

Worried she had offended him, Vezely attempted to restate what she meant, "I did not mean for that statement to offend, but I have found the West lacking in their knowledge of Rhun and its people."

"Which is by all means true," Elrond added assuredly, though Vezely's eyes remained upon Celeborn's as he seemed to stare deep inside her. "The division between East and West is as a wall of ignorance, and the reason why Sauron's reestablishment was hidden from our view for some time. And since you return to where we know not," Lord Elrond hoped to initiate the conversation he invited her for, "Perhaps you should tell us to whom this missing crest belongs, and why it causes concern in your mind. Then advice could be shared through understanding."

Vezely hesitated slightly, for the West, especially the fading Eldar, need not the concerns of Rhun, nor could they do anything about it. Yet, she also wanted to appear open to advice, for perhaps it could help her. "They are called the People of the Dark Lands," she explained steadily, "The farthest civilization settled beyond the Sea of Rhun, well past the nomadic steppes and barren wastelands to where sunlight marks only half the day as it does in the West. While one would think there a culture would fail, they have thrived. They are considered among the wealthiest commonwealths in Rhun because in the darkness grows a substance of trade that travels the farthest and continues to hold the highest demand; an opiate which numbs the mind and frees you for a time from all considered worries," she said knowingly; as often they were among the spoils of war and not always did they go unused.

"Nightspell," Elrond acknowledged its name in the common tongue, having heard of its trade, "I did not know of its specific origins."

Vez concurred, "And it appears to still be found in the dark underground of cities in the West, even though trade of other items from Rhun like spices have been halted. But besides trade, they also hold the most land, even if much of it is inhabitable. And they have a long history of unwelcome incursions into others. They are considered Easterlings, but were the last to join the Easterling Coalition. Their resistance was not due to disapproval of Sauron, on the contrary, they have long been worshippers of Melkor and were eager to follow his greatest servant. But they desired independence, to be given privilege over conquered territories in the West for their long held devotion to the Lord of the Dark." The mention of Melkor caused Legolas and his father to exchange an uncomfortable glance, for it was uncommon to nonchalantly hear the name of a foe so great and terrible. "But the five other Easterling commonwealths would not allow it, so they begrudgingly joined. And I would find that relations turned worse in recent years. The Resistance suspected they held some reserves back from the call to march to Mordor. That is why I was not surprised to find that their crest went unrecognized by the ambassador from Dale, for those there may have more readily returned home upon hearing Sauron's defeat."

"And you suspect they now expand their long-desired empire into territories scarce of protection and that you again ride to war," Elrond stated, to which Vezely nodded for that is exactly what she believed, "And this war cannot be avoided and peace sought instead?"

Vez smirked, for that would be a nobler pursuit, though she doubted attainable, "It is unlikely that their territorial desires can be dissuaded."

"If left unhindered, would not the inhabitants of these unprotected lands be spared and simply incorporated into their empire? Could you not accept some expansion to avoid bloodshed?" Thranduil queried, wondering if all were Easterlings, then such invasion would not necessarily be completely disruptive to cultural life.

Vezely disliked the implication that other Easterlings should simply allow the People of the Dark Lands dominion over their territories, but she remained courteous in response, "Easterlings are a proud people who do not bow easily, even for close kin. And while war would be avoided and the inhabitants of those territories spared, they would not be treated as equals. Perhaps above slaves if they did not resist, but at significant cost to their freedoms, especially their right to their own beliefs and rituals. Instead of worshipping ones ancestors, as my people did, they would be required to make sacrifices to Melkor. And if they would stop at the Easterling homelands, I would be surprised."

"You will aid in their protection then," Elrond added while in thought, "Which is not necessarily an ignoble endeavor," he said giving her affirmation of her charge, "But do you seek more than this?"

"How do you define more?" Vezely asked, herself now being the skeptical one.

"As a protector, you follow an honorable path. To defend those in need from those who would do harm. But if you ride to make war for your own benefit," Elrond stalled, hoping to intrigue a response.

To which Vez quickly answered, saying bluntly, "I seek no kingdom of my own."

"But you would seek leadership of an army," Elrond replied calmly, "And a return to the role you once had and a craft of..."

"Of death," Vez finished his sentence, for she knew this conversation would lead to other information revealed at that morning's council meeting. "I take no pride in the evil instruments my mind devised. They were simply means to an end I needed to fulfill."

Celeborn replied suspiciously, "But such deeds are what garners you respect and leadership in those lands." He remembered their conversation a few nights past when discussing Rhunic understandings of fear and respect. "And this fact exists whether you take pride in your foul deeds or not."

"It does. But I cannot erase what I have done or change the minds of those who deem me worthy because of it," Vez replied strongly, though becoming uncomfortable. Legolas noted this and for reassurance, he slowly moved his hand over to her under the table, placing it on top of the one she rested on her lap. His touch calmed her as she added, "But it does not mean such deeds would again be committed, for my purpose has changed."

Celeborn continued his inquisitive stare, asking her further, "But has your heart changed? Tell us, where do your desires truly lie? In war? Or in peace?"

Vez stalled in answering, finding it a strange question to be asked and by his stare she knew she could not get away with lying. "You must understand," she explained steadily, "I was raised in a culture that valorizes warfare. A common saying amongst the Balchoth is 'If there is no war, there is no life,' for we truly feel alive when in battle. My heart is yet new to knowing peace, and my experience of it fleeting as I prepare to leave," she then grasped Legolas's hand which still lay upon hers on her lap, "But know I fear its loss and will yearn for it when away. It is my heart that grounds my purpose in Rhun, and it will help guide me in my deeds as I remain true to who I am now, and to the people I seek to aid. For I have to believe I can be of Rhunic culture and yet be deemed good by those who judge our people."

Legolas was warmed by her statement and a small smile stretched across his face, as his eyes were on the table below him, for he knew she held him in her heart as he held her in his. And Celeborn, his eyes yet cold upon her, knew she did not lie, and he was satisfied, as was Lord Elrond who sensed further how far she had come from the Elf he met in the tent at Dunharrow. Thranduil's thoughts, however, were on his son, and how this admission further confirmed how his son's fate was tied to hers. So tragic their love seemed, he thought, and he felt sorrow for the future when she would depart and leave his son to waiting.

Lord Elrond replied, "I believe this is the balance you have long sought," knowing of her struggles with reconciliation of her two sides.

"I do not know if it is balanced," she replied uncertain.

He disagreed, "You cannot change your character or a love of war which appears deeply seeded. But if you remain true to your heart and it truly grounds your purpose, then your desire to strive towards peace is not in question. There is hope for you Vezely, and it is hope which never really abandoned you even after your estrangement from the West."

As Vezely, Legolas was equally grateful for Elrond's words, and he desired to tell him this when such openness of his affections was allowed. Nor did the Elf let go of her hand until dinner was served, glad he could be there to provide her support even if being dissuaded from doing so openly. For Vezely, the clandestine reassurance of her partner and the speaking of supportive words of wisdom from her elders, did much to fix her doubts.

Thranduil then added, curious of something else, "It is uncommon to hear one speak of Morgoth so freely and without trepidation," Thranduil spoke of the great foe currently lost in the void; Morgoth being the name the Eldar called Melkor. "What do you know of this fiend?"

Vezely looked at Legolas, and mentioned that he had told her of Morgoth's deception of the Elves in the First Age, and the wars he waged, to which Legolas replied he did not have time to go into great detail. She then recounted how Melkor was known by men of the East, who certainly held him in different regard. It would spark a conversation of the East's knowledge on the Valar to which Vezely also explained some paucity or differences of understandings. She would then, having been curious of First Age battles, ask Celeborn and Thranduil of their experiences in Doriath, eliciting some tales which even Legolas had not been privy to. Dinner and more wine would be consumed, but the conversation had not ceased, for the Elven lords had no shortage of stories to tell or questions to ask and answers to give.

Legolas left the event aside Vezely, needing no excuse to do so for his sleeping quarters were next to hers. His hands were clutched behind his back as he walked next to her, and hers were grasped in front, each not daring to hold hands or walk to closely in others view, but they did smile at each other exchanging their longing to do so as soon as they could. And their hands swiftly locked as they passed out of the West Wing's entry corridor, and they sauntered off to spend another evening alone; desiring to forget that their time together was now dwindling.

Elrond spoke to Thranduil after their exit, "I hold gratitude to your son for I sense his friendship was instrumental on her path. You must take pride, for he is both strong and kind of heart, and equally undeterred in showing it," for he also knew of Legolas's befriending of the dwarf, Gimli, despite their rocky offset from Rivendell. "...And I hear he is soon to depart from these lands," Elrond added pleasantly, "He will find peace there, and it is well deserved." Though in Elrond's own heart was sorrow for the daughter who could never go forth from these lands. In two days Arwen, accompanied by his twin sons Elrohir and Elladan, would arrive in Minas Tirith on route from Lothlorien, along with the one who Lord Celeborn held most dear. Despite their arrival's importance, their company's journey was unknown to the king and many others. Arwen would present herself to Aragorn at the coronation, to be held the morning after they arrived. Thus, there was another reason so many Elves were in Minas Tirith, for their joining was certainly reason to celebrate.


	39. The Challenge

"I want to spend more time with you under the leaves of Ithilien," Legolas confessed, his eyes unwavering and his tone serious. They lounged together on her bed, deciding to relax there rather than separate on the small chairs her room provided. Another night they needed to forego under the stars due to light spring rains again finding their way down onto the city's cobbled streets. However, they admittedly desired the intimacy that being behind closed doors provided them; to converse while wrapped in each other's arms was a lover's joy, even if they had yet to make love.

"As do I," Vezely replied in similar tone, propping her head up on one hand, "But with council meetings filling your days, I don't think going at night is a good idea."

"Council is merely a complication," he said optimistically, brushing off concern and implying he thought there could be a way around his attendance.

She smirked, deciding to tease him, "You should not skirt your duties and run off into the woods with a harlot. What would your father think?"

His laughter was followed by her own, along with a bright grin brought on by her enjoyment of teasing him, the sight of which stalled Legolas's breath momentarily. Vezely was not conventionally beautiful to Elven eyes upon first appearance. Even he admitted his own physical attraction to her started because he found himself curious of her differences; how she moved, acted, and spoke was strange and unexpected by one of his kindred. But in time he realized her beauty was hidden behind her uniqueness; covered up by her stern demeanor, strange jewelry, androgynous garments, and shorn locks, which he had not seen on a grown woman of any race in Middle Earth before. But having since accepted and become accustomed to them, he realized she possessed a beauty worthy of one who belonged to the line of Luthien; the fairest being ever known to Elves or men. But he feared telling her this, for he did not believe she cared for such compliments and perhaps, he thought, they might even offend her.

"What is it?" she asked quizzically, bringing him out of his brief trance.

He shook his head, pushing these thoughts aside as he breathed in deeply, saying instead his other thoughts on her joy, "It uplifts my heart to see you laugh, and I never again wish to see you cry."

Emotion drained from her face, as she felt ashamed about her breakdown earlier, "I never cry," she validated firmly, "But these days have been taxing."

"You need not explain," he smiled softly, not surprised by her defense, "For tears can just as easily find their way to my eyes for the trials you go through."

She moved her hand to the side of his face, now concern for him removing her own worries over having appeared weak. "I wish these burdens were not yours to bear."

He lightly pressed her hand to his cheek, continuing his thoughts, "To love you and desire your joy is not a burden."

"But I hold you to waiting and uncertainty," she said carefully.

"Not uncertainty," he corrected her, enjoying the warmth of her hand against his face, "I know you will return and one day we will look back on this brief time and realize we should not have spent these days in sorrow."

"I wish I could be as forward looking as you," she replied, admiring his resolve.

He spoke to her endearingly, "The young are not use to the length of time allotted us. We are bound to Arda and our marriage will bind us together, making it impossible to spend forever apart." These were the thoughts that kept him strong, he realized, stabilizing him despite the constant and uncomfortable pull of the sea and a growing sadness over the inevitable death of his mortal friends; thinking of this future with her provided him some calm.

Vezely soaked in his words. Neither dared speak of what they knew remained uncertain - her entrance into Valinor. Their fleeting hours together should be spent discussing their joys, rather than their woes, she told herself before replying. "We have not discussed marriage for some time," she brought up a delicate, though pleasant topic, "Upon my return perhaps we can even have a proper ceremony."

Legolas felt some heat rush to his cheeks upon the mention to discuss marriage since he was lying aside her on a bed, having been hesitantly led over to the bed when they first entered her quarters; reminding himself that he had already strayed quite outside of what was proper for their time of courtship. For Elves, marriage was not the ceremony itself, but the act of love making. And while they could forego a ceremony, it would be considered improper to do so; especially for the son of Thranduil and in a time of renewed peace. Vezely cared deeply about his reputation, and he knew this. Brushing away his sudden embarrassment, he replied, "My father would appreciate that."

She watched charmed as the flush that graced his cheeks fluttered away and he regained some composure, for it was during these times he appeared as a young boy who was not the wise Elf who had seen centuries pass him by. She added wondering, "And would it please you, to hold such a ceremony?"

"It would please me to have our union celebrated and blessed before our kin under the leaves of the fair forest that bore us. To proudly stand aside you and for all those who look upon us that day to envy the love we have found during dark times, unexpected, but true," he then intertwined his fingers with hers as if affirming its importance through the symbol of clasping their two hands together.

His strong words moved her to further realize the ceremony held importance to him not only for propriety's sake, but for her own reputation; he so desired her acceptance and their relationship's acceptance. Rolling over on her back, and adjusting herself closer to him, she placed their intertwined hands on her chest. He now looked down upon her from his propped elbow as she spoke, "I have never seen an Elvish marriage ceremony. Perhaps you should describe it to me so I can envision this future event with you."

Legolas swallowed slightly at her sudden closeness, again remembering where they lay. While his eyes were at first focused on her lips as she spoke, they strayed down her neck, trailing to where she held his hand, dangerously close to her breasts, and he noted a strong desire to kiss her and to have those kisses follow that line. Composing his thoughts, he began to explain the ceremony, detailing those expected to be attendance, what gifts would be given and what vows would be taken. Vez did not let her regret show that she had no close kin to take part, though equally regretful that Legolas's mother would also be absent.

"...You would be adorned in a gown of pale silver, your hair soft and loose," he removed his hand from hers and trailed his fingers up her neck, outlining her ear, bringing his fingertips to her short hair; not often did he touch it he realized. He brushed her fringe away from her forehead, noting its pleasant texture as he did. "And a garland of flowers would sit upon it..."

Vez interrupted firmly, "I would not put flowers in my hair."

"Even if I had flowers in mine," he replied wondering why such a custom brought outright refusal and amusement as she now chuckled slightly over what he just mentioned of his own adornment. Even his father wore a crown of flowers in the springtime, and especially for the Elves of the Woodland Realm, the integration of nature's beauty into every aspect of the ceremony was deemed essential. For Vezely, the pomp of this gathering, the fanciful garbs, the rituals, and the thought of being adorned with flowers were strange to her Balchoth senses, but still she marveled in imagining it and was glad he shared with her its details.

"Tell me then, what of the Balchoth wedding ceremony?" he queried, touching the tip of her nose as her chuckles stopped and he watched as the pink hue her laughter caused on her cheeks faded and she breathed deeply.

"Lots of drinking. Eating. Fighting," she listed them slowly, grinning throughout.

"Fighting?" he asked confused.

"A little friendly competition between the houses to be joined. Usually no one gets killed," she added bluntly, causing his eyes to widen which was exactly the reaction she expected. "And _no_ flowers," she added a second later for more personal amusement.

"But you will wear flowers at ours," he replied back with conviction, "White flowers, for they will appear even more radiant against the perfect dark color of your hair."

"Perfect dark color? Are you complimenting my hair?" she narrowed her eyes suspicious of his angle, for he had not provided her many compliments, especially any pertaining to her locks so she assumed he was teasing her. So she replied back in kind, "And hair deemed too short by Elvish standards?"

But he replied in a courteous tone, "It is short indeed my lady, but far lovelier in color than any I have seen, as are your eyes which have hews that mix the bluest sky and newest spring leaves. While your pale skin," he ran a finger softly down her nose, patting ever so lightly a finger on her sparse freckles, "Is graced by the markings of the stars, for you are blessed with their beauty."

A displeased look came over her face as she was not so amused by him mentioning all this in jest and she scrunched her nose, remarking bluntly, "You are teasing me."

"I do not tease," he spoke firmly, looking into her eyes with conviction, and forgetting his prior fear of reprimand, he stated sincerely, "You are beautiful, Vezely. A truth I should have told you sooner."

Any emotion she could have had was locked inside her, for she did not know how to respond to such a heartfelt compliment, and one which held no sinister desire behind it. Indeed, she has been called beautiful by ragged men who lusted for her but she took no heed of it.

Worried by her lukewarm reaction, Legolas apologized softly, "I am sorry if I offended you."

She shook her head, a small smile slowly finding its way to her lips, "No, I am sorry to have reacted as such to kind words." They stared deeply into each other's eyes, appreciating the other in silence, and Vez noted her breath deepening and heartbeat quickening as she realized he looked upon her in that way; that he saw her as beautiful. After a long moment of equal admiration, she returned them to their prior conversation, "I have a feeling," she bit her lip, moving her hand along his robe's collar, "Both ceremonies end the same for the betrothed." A slight blush was brought back to his cheeks as he knew she referred to the act of love making. She grinned at his boyish reaction, "And that is the best part," she added watching him closely, her hand sliding from his collar to his bare neck, trailing them to the first clasp of his robe, the feeling making him close his eyes in pleasure of her touch, "Just you and I, no need for gowns or flowers, or special vows. So simple." He opened his eyes when spoke his name, "Legolas," and the sound was softer than he had heard her say it before, and she spoke to him assuredly, her hand now on the side of his face, "I long for that day where I will stand by your side in front of our kin, flowers adorned in our hair, speaking the vows to bless our union. We shall have a proper ceremony and it will be even more than we had hoped, for that will be the day we truly start our lives together." She desired to let him know it mattered to her as to him; that she could wait to marry him if he so desired it.

An appreciative smile found its way to his lips, and he lay down next to her, embracing her in his arms, and she nuzzled closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder and placing her hand on his chest. He took her hand and re-entwined their fingers, saying softly, "Thoughts of that day will be a constant on my mind while you are away."

"As they will for me," she replied quietly, the patter of the rain only now being heard as they rested in each other's arms.

* * *

"You are headed to the prisons this morning then?" Legolas confirmed before he left her room to prepare for the morning's council, before which he would have breakfast with his father.

She nodded, "I've been permitted to address the men on council findings, and to gauge their preparedness to leave," alluding to having scheduled this allowance with Faramir. And while the Steward would be absent, attending the first of the day's council meetings, the translator, Derufin, was expected to observe and keep track of all that was said in order to report back to him.

"You should join the ambassadors for lunch then, as my guest," he cupped her face in her hands.

"Your guest?" she raised an eyebrow, "We are moving forward then?" querying his intentions of announcing their betrothal.

"I was hoping we could, even if slowly," he confessed, "I will discuss it further with my father, but know, I do not intend for you to leave for Rhun without it being announced."

"Legolas," she protested, but he hushed her with a finger pressed against her lips.

"My guest, at lunch," he lectured, "Which today is being held in the central courtyard."

She breathed in after he removed his finger, "Very well, _my lord_ ," she stated with mild displeasure at being instructed like a child.

The smile of victory that stretched across his face caused her to break her stern demeanor, and he leaned in to kiss her farewell before leaving, the softness of which only left her desiring more. "Until then," he whispered, his lips yet hovering before hers, and their eyes still closed. She nodded and breathed in, realizing only he could easily get her to succumb to such demands.

* * *

Thranduil greeted Legolas at the entrance to his quarters, leading him to the veranda where a simple breakfast of tea and fresh fruit was laid out for them on the balcony's small table. Thranduil beheld the grand view his balcony allotted with reverence before being seated, his son following suit after him. "You were bold last night," the aged Elf initiated the conversation, "Being late together and exchanging glances at every chance possible. I assumed you would make an announcement."

Legolas's eyes focused on the porcelain teacup in front of him, and he reached for the teapot to pour his father and then himself a cup of tea. The motion being an attempt to stop a smirk from forming on his face; knowing quite well he made his father uncomfortable last night. He responded politely after he was done, "I would not do so without you knowing in advance."

Thranduil narrowed his eyes as he watched his son's actions, replying bluntly, "Well, you have already sparked curiosity in Lord Celeborn, and if you continue your public displays, an announcement will not be necessary."

"That could make it easier," he considered in seriousness, his tone not hiding that he truly understood the weight of it.

Thranduil breathed in deeply, finding again his will to aid his son, to not abandon him or deem the desires of his heart as unimportant, even if he saw this partnership as ill-fated. He added as if defeated, "Different though her manner may be, last night she did prove herself humble, and open to council. Neither Lord Elrond nor Lord Celeborn spoke unkind of her after your departure." Realizing his father lightened his attitude, Legolas met his gaze, showing appreciation for sharing this. "So, what are your intentions then?" he asked, returning to his less kind demeanor as he picked up his teacup and saucer, "I doubt you intend a proper betrothal, seeing as it has been an improper courtship."

Legolas could not deny he felt both regret and some guilty pleasure in straying outside these expectations. He cloaked these mixed feelings by responding sincerely, "It has not been proper for obvious reasons. But we do intend to hold a proper ceremony upon her return."

"You will wait then?" His father responded surprised.

"Is that not what you expect?" he asked after taking sip of tea, encouraging him to share his thoughts.

Thranduil set the teacup down in front of him and adjusted in his chair before responding, "I know these are not normal circumstances and she is not a normal Elf. But I think it is prudent you wait." He then reached into his pocket and removed a small, intricately carved wooden box. Clasping it in his hand, he hesitantly handed it to his son from across the table, garnering a curious look from the young Elf who took and opened it. "These are your mother's and my betrothal rings, and my father and mother's before that," he stated as Legolas looked upon the polished silver bands; simple though they were, yet special and significant to his family line. "I intended to give these to you if you agreed to court Lady Adele," he added uncomfortably, "And it would be wrong of me to withhold them from you."

Legolas's eyes were transfixed on the two ancient rings while listening to his father's words before returning them to his; seeing in them the paternal devotion he yet held. "Father, you honor me," he said in heartfelt gratitude, though the words were harmful to Thranduil's ears, for he knew he had not honored his son's choice from the start. Legolas closed the box and warmly smiled back down upon it, looking forward to exchanging these rings as a token of their partnership before she left. Thranduil did not linger on the subject, however, and decidedly moved them onto another, namely the re-sowing of the forests of Ithilien, and plans for a small migration of Silvan Elves from his woods to assist him. He considered the rings as the last token of his stated acceptance of his son's decision; hoping from now until her departure, it would be smoother for the couple, and that he could simply limit his involvement.

* * *

"Lady Vez," Derufin greeted the Easterling-Elf at the gate; his proud stance showing he took his orders from the Steward to attend her seriously. But instead of stopping to greet the translator, Vezely continued walking right past him, making him catch up to her side. With a slight puffing out of his chest, trying to find his courage in his broad stature, Derufin stated, "I heard you held council with two prisoners yesterday without official consent."

Vez held the smirk from her face as she replied disinterested in the man's attempt at reprimand, "I did meet with two of _my men_ ," emphasizing it as her leadership right, "If the Steward takes issue, he can certainly tell me himself."

Derufin realized it was pointless in being the bearer of Faramir's complaints, for she took no heed in him. "Very well," he replied trying to keep pace with her march. "The guards are already stationed in their usual corners on the second level, and I will be there as well, transcribing your conversation."

"You don't desire to attend my side?" she asked with one eyebrow raised, finally observing him as she stopped before the entry gate.

"If you are addressing all the men at once, I should have no issue with hearing your words," he explained firmly, though truthfully not desiring to go inside the gates if he could avoid it.

"Very well," she remarked bluntly. Desiring to show solidarity with her men and address them unarmed, Vez then removed the sai from the sides of her boots, making Derufin step back in fear of the gesture. She turned the knives in her hands once before offering them, handles outward, to the guard who stood aside the entry gate; the one she often gave trouble to when there. "Hold these," she commanded him nonchalantly, and he outstretched his hands as if he were one of her own guardsmen bid to follow orders. "I wouldn't drop those if I were you," she remarked bluntly a second after her release, causing the nervous guard to jump slightly and clank them together, which invited a smirk from her.

The gate was unlatched and Vez marched inside with her head held high. All rose if seated and turned to face her, hands pressed to their sides, and the Captain walked forward, pressing his fist to his chest and bowing his head. "General," he greeted dutifully.

"Captain," she mirrored his response before shifting her stance to observe the men who stood up straight and motionless before her. She noted that their health had returned for none wore bandages and all were cloaked in clean and non-descript Gondorian garb provided by the king.

She walked through and inspected them briefly before speaking, ascending her voice proudly over them. "Brave Variags. Fierce Haradrim. Long have you waited for release from this prison, long have you healed your wounds, mourning your fallen comrades, yearning for your homeland. Soon you will pass through the gates of this white city unhindered, and soon you will see the fields and families you left many moons ago. You return not with the shame of defeat, but with renewed purpose as Rhun passes into a new age, freed from the bonds of shadow. And with hope, you will find those fields and your families safe. This, however, may be short lived. From information gathered about the last days of the great war, it is certain the People of the Darks Lands dishonorably retreated from the northern front; their intentions worrisome for a land now sparse of protection. It is my charge to return Rhun to its former glory; to a peaceful land where the greater territories of our ancestors' are respected, where free trade prospers, and our distinct cultures are respected. I am your leader, and I will lead you to Khand and Harad, but once there, I ask that you assist me in this future. If Rhun carries a common enemy, it is only against those who care not for restored order." She returned to the side of the Captain, adding while there, "I give leave to those who would voice concern over this or other matters."

Yaban, his face healed and his eyes on fire, stepped from the group and went to stand in front of her and the Captain; straightening his posture and holding his head high.

"Yaban," Vezely acknowledged him. "You wish to speak?"

He tilted his head politely and was given leave by Vezely, but with warning, "Speak then, but realize you will be heard beyond those of common tongue and mind, and what you ask must be taken with consideration of your position. For a prison this remains and a captive you are."

And with a voice of equal intensity as her own, Yaban addressed the men, "Our general takes on a noble charge; to incite aid for a homeland whose people she betrayed when order did exist. How long did you foil the Variags, the Easterlings, the Harad when you stood with the Resistance? How many of our kindred did you slay on the battlefields below? And now, you stand before us deeming enemy those who are no better than yourself. You are unfit to lead us to our homeland."

Vezely tilted up her head slightly higher, asking, "And you would prefer the Gondorians to lead you hither, with swords at your back and chains on your wrist?"

Yaban did not back down, "If that is our path, we will accept it having proven the leader of this rabble worthy."

"Take heed, Yaban, before you hasten your words to foreseeable end," Vezely interrupted sternly to provide further warning, "We remain on foreign soil, and at the mercy of those who will not condone such ritual and by law would be required to take retribution on the victor."

"And why would they trouble themselves upon our soon release? And why would they care if we slay each other inside their belly? We would but give them one less mouth to feed..." his voice ascended to the second level, of which only Derufin could understand his words and who had been transcribing the entire conversation.

The translator grew uncomfortable the moment Yaban stepped forward to speak, remembering quite well the incident when Vezely violently clocked him unconscious. Faramir had told him that if anything went awry to contact him, and sensing the tension he quickly wrote a note and handed it off to a nearby guard, telling him in haste to pigeon courier it up to the Steward. It requested Faramir's immediate attendance due to concern over _Lady Vez's interaction with the prisoners_ , as he worded it. Faramir was in the middle of the first of the day's council meetings when the rolled parchment was handed to him. He opened and read it in silence as the ambassador from Rohan spoke, afterwards politely excusing himself, a displeased look on his face rather than one of concern. His horse was prepared and brought to him to travel in haste down to the second level.

Yaban strode closer to Vezely, starring her in the eyes intensely as he spoke firmly, "And neither you nor these excuses, General, are above my right to question your leadership or to make the challenge," he held his fist up defiantly. "Hear me all," he cried turning from her and strutting to the middle of the courtyard, "I, Yaban of the house of Yarukzu, challenge Vezely, Elf-child of the Balchoth, to the right of leadership. Of which will take place now in this humble prison, in the city of our Western enemies. May death prove one unworthy."

So it was done, Vezely thought fatally as Yaban declared his challenge, and she brought her fist to her chest and bowed her head down slowly, breathing in deep and releasing her breath before lifting her chin; a simple show of acceptance. "Captain," she turned to her second in command, stating calmly, "I hold you as fair witness to this trial. May none interfere or face certain death by your hand."

The Captain bowed his head, and went to cordon off the men. From the shadows stepped forward Remi, with his arms crossed and a smirk across his face, as he looked forward to watching her fight. He had seen none defeat Yaban thus far, and hoped the elite warrior would muster a worthy match to enjoy.

Vezely slowly removed her black jacket; the black sleeveless tunic underneath displaying the tattoos on her arms. None who stood around the courtyard could avoid taking notice of the names inked on them; neither did her challenger. And Vezely of course took notice of Yaban's glance, and provided him a proud smirk as she knew it reminded him that she was his senior in many ways and his name would soon enough be added.

The Captain then addressed the men, "Due to current circumstances, this challenge is weaponless. All who stand witness stay beyond the courtyard parameter. Interference is punishable by death," he then engaged both challenger and the challenged, "By the others death you prove yourself leader. By your own death, you prove yourself honorable and may your ancestors accept you with open arms into their halls of proud warriors." The Captain stepped back behind the newly created parameter, alongside the prisoners who looked on in eager anticipation to watch such a duel. Even the few remaining Haradrim had come forward to witness this spectacle.

While displeased it escalated into what she hoped to avoid, Vez also knew regardless of her warnings, she would not have deterred Yaban from making his stand. Her eyes followed the young Variag as he moved to her right as if a predator stalking its prey; he appeared confident and angry, his piercing gaze letting her know he did not fear her race or her legend. He would prove himself worthy of an elite warrior, and worthy of their leader.

He lashed out first, throwing his fist at her face followed by a high kick, each were blocked by Vezely's forearm, and he jerked back as she retaliated, swinging her hand near his head followed by a low kick to his stomach, each being missed by his stealth and style of training. She punched at his midsection, but he sidestepped the blow, grabbing and holding her wrist against him; he then charged forward with full force, shoving her into one of the courtyard's large stone columns, kneeing her in the side a split second after her back hit the cold, hard surface. Before Yaban could hit her again, Vez head butted him, throwing him off balance as she pulled him by the arm and smashed his own back against the same column, clocking him across the jaw with her elbow while there, adding a crushing knee kick to his side. In her attempt to hit him in the face, he ducked out and spun to her left, gaining distance from her. He shook his head to reorient and she allowed him only a momentary reprieve before lunging into him, starting another round of blocking each other's kicks and blows. Another grab of her wrist and he halfway succeeded in tipping her to the floor, but Vez spun out of it, tilting off his back onto her feet. Once free of his grasp, she provided a low round kick that knocked the feet from under him. Once on his back, she went to stomp on his face but found slat instead, as he rolled from under her boot and flew to his feet.

Yaban sprinted to the corner of the courtyard, his hands grabbing an abandoned stool which sat there. He charged her with it, swinging the wooden object wildly and with deadly purpose, but she swerved each time, and in one final swing his makeshift weapon met another stone column; breaking it into pieces. Vez retrieved two of the legs, with Yaban grabbing the other two, now each having makeshift clubs to fight with. He twirled them about gracefully and with precision, showing off some of his mastery as if to place fear into his opponent and marvel his onlookers with his prowess. Vez rounded the posts once in her hands before crossing them in front of her in a fighting stance, smirking while saying unimpressed, "Are you finished?"

The snide remark only upped his anger, and their posts clanked and splintered as they took turns driving the other backwards, blocking and retaliating, showing off the fighting styles of their clans. The sound of wood knocking together resounded above the crowd of men who cheered on each blow.

On the second level, Derufin watched with growing anxiety, and the head guard, who understood nothing of the conversation that led to the fight, inquired as to whether they should interfere. There had been daily sparring matches that week in the courtyard, each appearing as friendly competition between prisoners, and the guards simply let them slide for the sake of giving the prisoners exercise, and providing the guards a show; alleviating them of the dullness of their day. Thus, they didn't deem this current competition as anything other than what they had witnessed many times before, even if Lady Vez was involved. Derufin hid his growing worry and uncertainty of what action to take, responding they would wait for the Steward to arrive, and surely Faramir was on his way, his horse already galloping down to the prison level as the fight got underway.

Though enjoying the match thoroughly, for Vez found Yaban a skilled opponent, well-trained and competent in the martial arts of his clan, but she reminded herself this could only end one way. And while minutes passed as they proved their skill with clubs, Vez fell to the will of the crowd - their chants were intoxicating; they wanted action; they wanted blood. By a strategic kick, she knocked one post from his hand, reducing him to using the other as one would a bladeless axe, of which he attempted to come down on her head with. She blocked it with one post, using the other to jab him hard in the gut, spilling him backward; his feet shuffled beneath him to keep his balance. She then clocked him against the jaw with her other club, a tooth and blood being spit from his mouth showed all the force of the blow, as her foot kicked the other post from his hand. Further blows by her clubs were blocked by his forearms; Yaban would not give up. He grabbed one that assailed him, gripping and pulling it hard towards him, and by a clever maneuver brought her into a choke hold, causing her to drop both clubs from her hands and bring them to the arm that was tightening around her neck. She forced her weight into him, leading him backwards into another pillar, but he held on with all his might to choke her. She then released his arm, and used her elbows to jab him on each side; the hits providing enough of a release in his arm's hold that the same arm which choked her gave her leverage to twist and flip him via his shoulder to the ground. She quickly found herself straddling his waist, an ample position to provide him several blows to the face.

After three punches, she saw from the corner of her eye a Variag from the crowd race towards her, pulling a dagger from his cloak. The moment her eyes moved up Yaban took the opportunity to hit her in her face, his leg flipping her onto the ground before him. The man with the dagger did not get far, however, as the Captain interfered, hitting him hard in the head with one of the stool's discarded legs, sending him to the ground below hemorrhaging from the force of it. The dagger he held flew from his hands into the center of the arena.

Vez blocked Yaban's next blow with her forearm, using her other arm to push him off of her. Both rolled and ascended to their feet, but Yaban moved in the direction of the dagger, standing up with renewed hope as he held the weapon his companion sought to bring him. They stared menacingly at each other and Vez tasted the blood in her mouth. She brought her index and middle finger to her lips, placing some of the red liquid onto them, and rubbed it with the tips of her thumb. Her eyes again transfixed on his, she smirked and her demeanor showed dark amusement that he had provided her this injury. Though exuding coolness, in truth she was infuriated that another Variag interfered in such a ritual, furthered by recognizing that the dagger Yaban now held was the same one she used for the burial ritual. Remi must have stolen it from her sack and brought it into the prison; probably as a bargaining chip with those who were against her.

Gripping the dagger downward, Yaban lunged forward and slashed, necessitating Vez to swerve several times before finding an opening to start what she deemed her final assault. She grabbed his knife wielding wrist, kicking his rib cage hard, followed by a high kick to her head, and a bone breaking punch to the arm she held; splitting his elbow in the other direction of the joint, and releasing the dagger's hilt from his grasp. She caught it while low kicking his feet from under him, and as he hit the ground, holding in pain his shattered arm against his chest, she stomped on him in the gut with full force, causing him to spit blood from his mouth. It was over and Yaban knew it, but being a brave warrior, he struggled one last time to rise, but failed and flopped back down.

The crowd was cheering, and Vezely, who circled around the fallen warrior once, then raised the hand she gripped the dagger in. Also knowing it was near completion, the men resounded the arena with her name, cheering her on. "Vezely! Vezely! Vezely..."

In the midst of this blood sport, Derufin ran to the prison entrance, pulling the Steward in haste, explaining frantically what was occurring. There was no line of sight allotted from the prison entrance, as the prisoners were crowded around the courtyard, and the Steward followed by Derufin ran up to the second level, hearing the chants of the dubious Elf's name as they ascended the stairs.

Barely conscious, but not yet spent of life, Vezely lifted the man to his feet, pulling him up by his mid-length hair and enclosing her arm around his chest, steadying his broken form against her body. She then held the dagger to his throat, saying respectfully, "You fought honorably, Yaban of the house of Yarukzu, may your ancestors accept you into their halls and may your kindred never forget you."

When preparing to drain him of his life, Faramir, appalled by the scene he beheld, commanded her from above, "Halt, or your life is forfeit!" His voice brought silence to the arena, and all looked up to see the Steward standing next to Derufin, and the head guard with his bowstring stretched back and an arrow aimed down upon her.

She stilled her hand. Yaban was yet conscious under her grip, but knowing his defeat and desiring death by his combatant an honorable discharge from his failed challenge, he spoke to her firmly, "Do not dishonor me." Vez breathed in deeply, her eyes fixed on the Stewards, and though knowingly under threat, she gritted her teeth and did as her challenger requested, as tradition expected, and dug the knife along the man's throat, releasing the warm liquid along with her hold on him, and he slumped down before her feet. The motion prompted the release of the guardsman's arrow, and it sailed to the ground below, straight to its target.


	40. Mediation

Vezely could only minimally adjust her position when she heard the zing of the fated arrow's release before it hit her in the left shoulder, sending her one foot back inadvertently to brace the impact of the metal tip sinking into the joint aside her collar bone. But before another arrow could be strung, her men crowded around her, shielding her from any possible onslaught from above as they peered up towards the Steward in defiance.

"We are finished here, Steward!" Vez yelled a moment later, her form hidden behind a wall of protection. She then gritted her teeth and ripped the arrow from her, caring not of the added pain such an act issued forth; pain was an afterthought to the painful mess she now found herself in. "My men and I are better prepared to leave Minas Tirith united," she added proudly after.

Faramir remained utterly confused by what he had witnessed the tail end of. By his side, Derufin quietly translated to him the brief conversation Vezely had with the man before she defied his orders and slashed his throat with a look of satisfaction on her face. Though perplexed by what a challenge even was, as Derufin had called the match such, he did prompt his guard to lower his bow; after which the three left for the lower gate.

His exit prompted the Captain to call out loudly, "All hail, General Vezely!" causing the men who encircled her to step one pace back, place their hands to their chest and bow their heads in honor of her keeping her title.

Vezely bowed her head, and then looked at the man yet beneath her feet, paying her final respects, "And all hail Yaban of the house of Yarukzu. May yours be the last Rhunic blood spilt on Western soil."

The entry gate was unlatched and Faramir marched in toward them, himself also protected by four armed guards who stood in front and behind him; each had their hands on the hilts of the side swords. "Stand aside," Faramir commanded the prisoners that yet stood between him and their general; one they would protect to the death if need be. "Stand aside or face punishment," Faramir stated again undeterred, his hand also going to his sword's hilt. Derufin, who stalled after walking a few steps into the entry gate, translated these words to them with an attempt to mimic the Steward's forceful tone.

"Let me through," Vezely responded in their language, not wanting any others to come to harm on her account. The Captain, who remained standing in front of her, looked at her hesitantly, but she provided him silent assurance in her gaze before he would allow himself to also step away. She walked towards Faramir, her demeanor cool, the dagger yet gripped in her right hand, the blood tipped arrow in her left, and her own blood leaking down her bare arm and dripping off her finger tips, courtesy of the wound it inflicted.

The Steward's eyes briefly narrowed on what she held, uncertain if they remained weapons to be wielded; his grip noticeably tightened on his sword's hilt. But when she stopped a meter in front of him, she released some of the anger she held for the man by breaking the arrow's shaft on her knee, despite momentarily desiring to sink it into his chest for shooting her. Then taking the two halves and the bloodied dagger in one hand, she outstretched them towards him as an act of submission.

Faramir ordered the guard to his left to take the weapons; sending another to check on the man who was hit on the head by the Captain; yet laying motionless on the side of the courtyard. The guard turned him over and confirmed he was still alive, though his head wound severe; with another guard he was carried from the prison to be treated. As she watched him be lifted, Vezely could not help but think even if the man survived he would not be gifted of life long, for his deed deemed it so. Two other guards then went to retrieve Yaban's limp form, and Faramir watched Vezely's reaction closely, his eyes unwavering as she held her head high and proud as the body passed, seeing in her no remorse for the deed she had done.

"Bring her," Faramir then ordered his guards, his tone noticeably disgusted by what transpired.

"Let me walk out of here unhanded, Steward," Vezely spoke sternly as caution before she was touched, for she did not desire to be man-handled in front of her men, "And if you are willing to listen, I will explain what happened. There is honorable intent in his death."

 _Honorable intent_ , Faramir replayed the words in his mind, fearing she held madness alongside her barbarity; for it was certainly a sight to see an Elf-woman slit a man's throat with what he deduced as emotions of pleasure and assuredness. Though he held pause, suddenly remembering the last time he wrongly took her away in cuffs, and the grievousness it caused him with her friends, Lord Aragorn especially. Thinking twice, he withdrew his guards; stepping aside in order to allow her to walk out the gate unhindered.

Before she left, Remi approached her side with her black jacket outstretched in his hand, "General," he nodded politely in reverence. Vezely's icy stare reminded him that she knew he had brought the dagger into the prison, but she could not deal with that now. Saying nothing, she swiped her jacket from him with her right hand and put it on as she walked out, with Faramir and his men following; gritting her teeth to hide the pain of moving her left arm into it...

"He should be burned, as is custom," Vez stated stoically, looking down the corridor where they took Yaban's body. The screech and latch of the prison gate closing prompted her to turn her eyes upon Faramir's, who simply observed her, his hand yet holding the hilt of his sheathed sword. Vez suspected he was contemplating how to deal with this situation, forming the words in his mind before committing them to his tongue. She smirked slightly knowing he was hesitant; then she casually stepped up to the guard at the gate, requesting the return of her sai with outstretched hands.

"He will keep them," Faramir finally spoke as the guard was about to place the weapons into her hands, causing her to spin around and face him, her eyes narrowing, waiting for the words he held back. Faramir breathed in deeply, while exhaling through his nostrils, settling his anger and desire to throw her behind bars. "The prisoners' well-being is my responsibility, and now one is dead and another on the verge of death because of your _honorable intent_. If it was up to me, I would throw you behind bars, but since you are a guest of our soon to be crowned king, I will defer to his opinion on what is to be done."

She nodded politely to accept his decision; realizing the Steward perhaps learned his lesson from the last time he wrongly accused her of misdeeds. It also deferred her from having to explain herself to one less inclined to listen.

Instead of calling Aragorn down to the prisons, Faramir decided to bring his problem to him and attempt to hold brief council with Vezely in private up on the sixth level. He felt a request for his attendance, if made, would not only take Aragorn away from his duties, but bear unnecessary suspicion of prison dealings amongst the ambassadors. In this rare instance, both Vezely and Faramir hoped for the same thing, discreetness in dealing with these matters.

Vezely would ride her own horse to the sixth level, but guards rode behind her and her horse was roped and held to by another in front of her. While Faramir did not believe she would run, he also felt she had earned the treatment. Their horses would be taken to the stables for them, and Vezely would be escorted through the guest villa to the meeting rooms on the far side. It was yet before lunch break so all the ambassadors would still be in the meeting hall, so Faramir felt unconcerned about getting her through the villa unseen.

* * *

Legolas exited the council hall optimistic of the day ahead. The morning's meeting ended earlier than expected, and all were grateful to head over to courtyard prior lunch to enjoy the perfect weather they were experiencing. His hand casually slipped into his robe's side pocket, finding there the carved wooden box which held the ancient betrothal rings. He knew they were forged in the halls of Menegroth during a time of relative peace; before Morgoth brought his treachery to those lands. Once his mother had showed them to him long ago, after she acquiesced to his plan to forgo partnership; telling him she yet desired them to be his one day, to wear for the year of betrothal and then to keep long after. She even mentioned her hopes of passing them on to his own children, when they decided to embark on the same path. _His own children_ , he thought back to his mother's soft voice while saying these words, and how they stirred him and made him wonder of such a future. Yet it was only a passing thought, for he was content with the decision to not seek companionship. Similar thoughts had not returned to him until recently; during the vision he beheld of Vezely a few nights ago - when he heard over the patter of the rain, the sound of a child. He did not know her thoughts on children, nor if he dared seek them out in these few days they still had together, but he enjoyed having these thoughts himself. And his father's gesture, providing him these precious family heirlooms when he knew he did not fully accept his relationship, did much to mend his concerns over making an announcement.

"You are looking cheerful, my friend," Thalion clapped a hand on Legolas's shoulder, as they walked towards the central courtyard for lunch, then adding in jest, "Even if you did lose the possibility of sharing life with a certain beautiful lady of Lorien."

He looked toward his friend with a pleased smile, "My heart sings more than you can know."

Thalion now returned a curious look, "And what matters of the heart do you speak? Surely tending the forests of Ithilien and afterward seeing the blessed shores of Valinor stir the heart, but not to the tune I was thinking."

He stopped and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, confiding sincerely, "Of that tune, my heart stirs as well."

"Son. Thalion," Thranduil rounded near his side, taking Legolas's attention away from Thalion's, who stood perplexed by his friend's words before greeting the Elvenking; who simply joined them in small talk on their walk to the central courtyard. There the ambassadors enjoyed the warmth of the late spring sun and cordial conversation, having had a successful morning council, despite the topic of territorial claims having all possibilities of being contentious.

It was then that Faramir with Derufin at his side marched around the corner into the covered corridor that lined the eastern side of the central courtyard. Vezely walked behind him with four armed guards stationed at her sides; their positions and stance, with hands upon the hilts of their side swords, appeared as if they were escorting a prisoner. Vezely's peered out the corner of her eye, while keeping her head straight, realizing as did Faramir that the ambassador's lunch started earlier than expected. Their sudden presence was unavoidable, despite Faramir's desire to continue walking unhindered.

Aragorn had been curious as to the Steward's business when he was called away during the morning's council meeting, and thus he left Elrond's side to attend him. Legolas also knew of Vezely's business at the prisons that morning, and as he looked warily upon the scene, he tried to access what had happened, soaking in details from the guards' position around her, her sai hooked in the belt of one of them, the way she diverted her eyes, clenched her fists, and was that blood?

As if knowing he was about to step forward and follow Aragorn, Thranduil calmly placed a hand on his shoulder which stalled him and turned his gaze. Thranduil shook his head, silently telling his son to not interfere, for he also read the signs that something was amiss. But Legolas did not heed his father's advice and went to Aragorn's side.

Upon Aragorn's approach, Faramir halted, and turned his stance to address him. The four guards properly followed suit, as did Vez, but she turned reluctantly, her brow furled and eyes diverted from those now looking upon them.

Aragorn kept his voice low, "What is the meaning of this?"

Faramir stiffened, but replied calmly, "There was an incident at the prison," handing him the parchment on which Derufin transcribed the event.

Legolas investigated her closer, since her averted gaze forbid him from gaining any personal understanding. Her black jacket covered her shoulder wound and though blood soaked her inner shirt and ran down her torso to her pants, the black color helped camouflage it. Yet her hands were stained, and some blood appeared on the corner of her lips.

Aragorn skimmed through Derufin's report, and looking up from the parchment at Vezely, he remarked in recognition, "You were challenged;" remembering the Easterling leadership rite she discussed the evening after their company left Isengard.

"And you are hurt," Legolas exclaimed a second later with concern in his voice, but as he stepped towards her, the guards blocked his path, causing him to look sternly at Faramir for an explanation.

"She disobeyed orders," Faramir defended his position holding his head high, "Even under threat of death, she slit the man's throat. Now one prisoner is dead and another close to it because of this challenge, which should not have taken place to begin with."

Vezely could feel their eyes; the keen eyes of the Eldar who stood in that courtyard. Undoubtedly they would see her face; every detail of her emotions. And their adept ears would hear everything, despite the attempts by the men to keep their voices low. It was useless to hide; to remain silent and submissive in hope that this ordeal would be swept away to a discreet corner of the villa. She needed to defend herself. Slowly she lifted her strained eyes, and they inadvertently focused on Legolas's, who returned only a concerned stare; her well-being was his number one priority. It filled her with regret for her actions causing this display in front of their kindred. But she pushed her loathing aside and regained her composure, turning to address Aragorn, she explained steadily, "Know I did not desire a challenge to be made on prison grounds, though I have been expecting Yaban to do so since I took leadership of the men. The injury I provided him that day was partially to bide time." Her gaze then shifted to Faramir, and her voice grew stern as she responded to his accusation with bitterness, "But under threat of death I could not refuse a challenge once made nor disrespect the man who initiated it by staying my hand at his end; regardless of your arrow cast down from above. In death Yaban regained the honor he lost in defeat on the fields below, and I keep their respect as leader. My men are united now, which spells less worry for their release."

"Honor? Respect?" Faramir mocked in disbelief over the use of these words, and undeterred by her gaze, he questioned, "You take pride in killing your own men and deem it honorable?"

"It is our culture," she proclaimed angrily, clenching her fists, "I did what was right by the men of Rhun."

"Of course, killing is right to you, a past time to be enjoyed," Faramir blurted condescendingly, noticeably gripping his sword's hilt tighter.

"Don't tempt me, Steward," she retorted threateningly, his gesture instinctively making Vezely cautious of where her sai were located, tucked in the left guard's side belt; only two swift movements away from impaling the man's chest with one, she thought darkly.

Their heated exchange caused Aragorn to let out a deep sign, before addressing them, "Vez, I believe you," his voice turning their attention away from each other. "But you should have informed us about the possibility of being challenged, so we could have assisted you in some way. And Faramir, it is of good fortune that Vez yet stands, though injured by your rash ultimatum," for having had clenched her fist tighter, sizeable drips of blood began running off her left knuckles onto the courtyard's polished tile, and blood soaked through her jacket at the shoulder, "And a decision I have no doubt was sparked by your distrust in her. I do not ask for you two to form friendship, for now any bond that may have been sewn is far placed asunder. But in these days before Vez's departure, maintain civility, as is the hope of all who have traveled to Minas Tirith to see through this transition." _Wise words from a wise man_ , were the thoughts of those who heard this speech; Aragorn proving again his aptitude for kingship.

Faramir nodded briefly in deference to the king, his demeanor trying to maintain some dignity from this mild chastisement in front of other leaders. Though undoubtedly most of them felt the Steward was justified in his actions due to what they knew of the Easterling-Elf's past, and what little they understood about the estranged culture of Rhun. Vez also tilted her head down but upon raising it she kept her eyes diverted, again finding the stares of her Elven kin demoralizing.

"Please Vez, go and have your injury mended," Aragorn then added concerned, hoping to send her off to the Houses of Healing and away from this display.

Appreciation was an understatement for Vezely, for she desired nothing more than to leave that courtyard freely; and though she attempted not to, her eyes accidentally glanced over and met his concerned gaze. Vezely's anger always unsettled Legolas, fearing she could easily lash out at the wrong individual, and bring herself harsh repercussions. But today Faramir unnecessarily pushed her buttons, making him feel anger towards the man; even more so when realizing he had targeted her and caused her injury. In that brief moment of eye contact, Legolas read her apology alongside worry for what would be the ongoing repercussions of the morning's actions.

But determined not to leave with any appearance of weakness, Vez did not let her gaze on him linger, and instead tilted her chin back up and reinstated her harsh demeanor. "I'll take those back now," she remarked sternly to the guard who held her sai on his belt, putting her hands on their handles before he could respond, and abruptly pulling them from him without resistance. She re-holstered them in the side straps of her boots as one with skill quickly sheathes a blade. "Move," she then ordered the two guards at her right, and they parted for her. She would march past Faramir, neither acknowledging the other.

Legolas, who felt mired in a mix of emotions, placed a hand on Aragorn's shoulder, his eyes showing gratitude for how he handled the situation before leaving to follow her. He knew she would have preferred he stay; to have maintained his distance and disassociation, but again he cared more for her than for his reputation.

"Vezely," he called to her after turning into the next corner. His voice halting her march, but she did not turn to face him. Instead she lowered her head, wishing he had not come. As he came to her side, she yet could not look at him, but her gaze appeared pained by his presence. He carefully peeled back the collar of her jacket, finding the mess the arrow made of her shoulder underneath; heaviness hit him the moment he realized how close it was to her heart. He then gently placed a hand on the side of her face; the warmth and comfort of which prompted a closure of her eyes and a returned steadiness in her breath.

She murmured almost imperceptibly, "I am so sorry. I never desired for this to happen. Not now. Not when we were..."

He kissed her forehead softly, calming her anguish, whispering as he hovered by her face, "Vezely, I know. It will be alright."

She looked at him searchingly, and when finding only concern reflected in his gaze, the part of her that yet disbelieved he could love her so wholeheartedly returned and gnawed at her insides. Her meek response tried to turn him away, "You should return," her eyes swooped past him in the direction he came, "There is no need to tend my side."

"You still have not learned," he admonished her softly, "You cannot always get what you want;" he was pleased when his sarcasm brought a faint though perceptible smile to her face. He placed a hand on the small of her back, "Let's get you mended," prompting her to walk aside him to the Houses of Healing; a place neither ever desired to see again.

* * *

A young healer led the two Elves to a private healing room, instructing Vezely to remove the necessary layers of garments and sit down on the bench while she retrieved what was needed to address her wound. The white room was simple in adornment; high backed wooden chairs, a table full of elixir and herb-filled glass jars, stacks of fresh dressing linens, and a wall of wooden shuttered windows, through which the noonday sun blared brightly.

Legolas assisted Vez in taking her jacket off. Her wound was tender and she gritted her teeth while getting off the one sleeve.

"You are a mess," he remarked when seeing the amount of blood that soaked her inner tunic and arm.

"Worse than that courtyard display?" she replied attempting a sarcastic tone but failing.

"Faramir crossed the line," Legolas confirmed his belief on the incident as he brought a chair over to where she sat, grabbing a pair of scissors after; and sitting before her he cut the left shoulder seam of her tunic which would allow access to the wound. "He should not have said what he did about you or your culture and then not expect such a response." She pursed her lips together, foregoing responding as she observed him while he worked. "It hit right at the joint," he stated dryly getting a closer look at it, knowing it was an uncomfortable wound that could take time to heal.

"Good thing I moved," she responded again with weak sarcasm, meeting his now turned gaze; but such a remark did not provide the levity intended. He took and clasped her right hand in his, ignoring the blood which stained it, caring not whether it belonged to her or Yaban. He breathed in deeply, settling a tremble of fear for what could have happened. "I'm sorry," she whispered in response to his inner turmoil, "The decision I made, to kill him," her voice wavered, "I did not think it through as I should have. I called his bluff, but..."

He shook his head, "What is done is done. And you are yet of this earth," Legolas replied carefully, his breath finding its proper rhythm as he soaked in her wary gaze.

A slight intentional cough from the doorway alerted them to a visitor, but instead of it being the healer who told of her swift return, there stood Lord Elrond, regally cloaked in burgundy and gold robes, a bronze circlet upon his brow, and in his hands he held a shallow ceramic basin; one which healers used to hold the water to clean wounds.

The split second after realizing his presence prompted Vezely to remove her hand from Legolas's, soon finding it gripping the bench's ledge she sat upon, as her slightly widened eyes stared down at the floor's tiles.

Legolas shot up from his chair a second later, "Lord Elrond," he greeted him courteously, his standing form unintentionally shielding Vezely from his view behind him, where she sat clenching her jaw, utter discomfort consuming her.

"I sent the young healer on another errand, hoping I could instead be of assistance," he told Legolas politely, walking from the doorway towards them.

"That is kind of you, my lord," Legolas replied appreciatively stepping aside; knowing well that Elrond was a skilled healer, and one of the most well-known of the Eldar

Vez hesitantly looked at the Elf Lord; and though his demeanor appeared kind and non-judgmental, she felt herself unworthy of his aid, "It is a wound not worth sullying your hands over."

"Indeed, though I have sullied my hands so much so that such a task will be nothing more than routine," he replied undeterred coming aside her. Elrond then nodded to Legolas; silently exchanging his desire to be alone with her. Legolas took the hint, bowing his head politely, but before stepping out he provided Vez a brief glance and she knew he wouldn't stray far. Elrond set up what he needed on the side table, pulling several linens from the nearby shelf and placing several herbs in a mortar; the silence making her uncomfortable.

Sitting down where Legolas had sat, he inspected her wound while she kept her eyes diverted. His unexpected words finally broke the awkward silence, "You two complement each other."

"My lord?" Vez finally turned her gaze onto his, following his grey eyes inquisitively as he dipped a sheet of linen into the basin's water and rung it out.

"His concern for you at Dunharrow. It ran deeper than I admit to having expected. I now know he is the one who grounds your purpose, and guides you," he considered, remembering the exact words she spoke the evening before about her heart keeping her on her path. She swallowed the spit in her mouth, desiring to break from it words that denied his assumptions, but she kept silent. Noting her discomfort did not come from tending her wound, he added, "It is understandable why you desire to keep it hidden."

She breathed in and kept her eyes from his, confirming with only, "It is." Her demeanor displaying she did not desire to discuss the topic with him.

He furled his brow, considering the reasons behind her guardedness as he prepared to stitch her wound. Hoping to ease her into talking more freely with him, he decidedly changed the topic, querying, "These are interesting markings," for tattoos were unheard of upon the skin of Elves, and appearing of Rhunic script, a language he was only minimally versed in, he wondered of their meaning.

Vez ignored the sharp pain of the needle now pressing into her; hardened by centuries of wounds that the sickening feeling had gotten familiar. And for the change in topic, she was grateful. "Some are words of my clan, others hold symbolic meaning to episodes in my life history, and the characters on this arm are names of past challengers. The man I killed today, Yaban of the house of Yarukzu, will be added when I return to Rhun; as will the name of his leader, Öldür, who I slayed on the fields below in retribution for his treason against me. The challenge is not an act of barbarism, but provides a means for order in warrior society. These markings stand as a reminder that leadership is not to be taken for granted."

Elrond breathed in deeply, still curious by his miscomprehension, especially since there was little his wise mind didn't understand, "Tell me, why did you risk your life to slay this man?"

"Honor," she offered up this one word proudly as explanation, though she knew her understanding of it did not translate well, "Not only for myself, but for the man who requested in his last words that I not stay my hand. As the only member of the Variag elite forces to survive, he sought to regain his honor by challenging me for leadership. And it would have been an even greater dishonor for him, after being knowingly defeated, to have survived. Though now," she stalled her words and gripped the bench ledge with her right hand as the needle dug in again, "I do regret the consequences of my actions."

"Though not the action itself," he raised an eyebrow.

"Do not lecture me on what others might perceive as my pleasure in dealing death," she remarked with suspicion that he was referring to Faramir's words, "I know what is right and wrong."

"I do not assume otherwise," he verified calmly, tilting his chin up and finding her defense revealing; adding for her to consider, "Though I also believe you understand there are more often gray areas, forcing you to make decisions where all possible consequences are not known at the time of action." Having finished stitching, Elrond rinsed his hands of her blood and went to crush the herbs and leaves he had placed in the mortar. He then emptied its contents into another bowl of water, bringing it back over to where she sat to wait for the liquid to soak in their newly released oils. "I believe," he thought a moment before saying cautiously, "You made this decision as a general beholden to her men, not as an Elf attempting to improve her reputation. And that is why it causes you pause now."

She smirked, uncomfortably amused by his observation, responding, "Leaving the West with my reputation unchanged bothers me not, but," she shifted in her seat slightly and diverted her eyes, "It is for another's I fear."

"He may find you more important than his reputation," Elrond replied astutely while straining the oil-laced water through a meshed cloth; he understood well the meaning behind her words. "He proved that today, did he not?"

She smiled slightly while considering this truth, but felt dejected, replying bluntly, "And I again proved my estrangement."

He smiled consolingly, informing her of his task, "This will sting," and she winced slightly as he pressed the soaked linen onto her wound, confirming after, "But it will speed recovery."

"Gratitude," she breathed out, realizing she should consider herself incredibly fortunate to be tended to by him.

As he finished wrapping her wound, he stood up and looked down upon her, waiting for her attention in hopes to show her the sincerity of his considered reply to her previous comment of estrangement. Only when she looked at him, did he speak, "Love only proves you less distant, Vezely. You may be surprised what understanding it can give." Even for Elrond, the knowledge of her partnership with Legolas gained him more insight of her being than he had expected.

* * *

Legolas stood in the hallway outside of the healing room in his usual, Woodland guard-like fashion; his Elven ears unintentionally hearing the conversation within. And when Elrond exited and saw him there, he knew this. The learned Elf cupped a hand on his shoulder, saying encouragingly, "Spend time with her today, as your days together grow short." And when Legolas was about to provide several reasons why this was a poor idea, Elrond quickly interjected, "I will justify it to your father, and explain to any others who might ask of your absence at the council this afternoon."

"Lord Elrond, I..." he stumbled on his words, not sure whether to express gratitude for getting his desired day alone with her or worry over this task Elrond appointed to himself.

But Elrond would not let him do either; adding appreciatively before he left, "I am glad she has you."

* * *


	41. Ithilien and the New Guests

A light breeze shuffled the tree tops, causing the sunlight that escaped from above to dance with the shadows on the grasses below. There they lay on their backs, staring up at the ancient branches that were speckled with new spring leaves, while their hands and fingers were interlaced at their side. Legolas had to spend some time in the healing room convincing Vezely first to Elrond's suggestion for him to skip the afternoon council meeting, and second, for them to leave the city that afternoon and return to Ithilien. While he was even hesitant at first, knowing his father would disapprove most of all, he also knew he would not get this chance again. Tomorrow was the last day of council before the coronation day, and Vezely would be leaving the morning after. He desired to take her again to Ithilien; to find with her there the joy they had shared two times past and to dream again about the future when they could share all the time Arda provided them, together, and in a paradise most suited for their race.

They followed the same trails to the waterfall they discovered last time, and while Vezely desired to swim in its perfect crystal depths, she would have to forgo such revelry for her wound should be kept dry a little longer. But being near its beauty and hearing the sound of the water flowing down from the high cliff face provided a peace she could not place. They did not speak about the prior incident in the courtyard or of Vezely's morning, as the blood of Yaban was barely washed from her hands. Legolas had heard her conversation with Elrond and understood the best he could of the culture she operated in. And while he wished such harshness did not exist in the world and that as a leader of men, she would not be faced with decisions that put her life in danger or her morality at risk, all of this was out of his control.

A pair of nightingales swooped onto a branch nearby as they lay there content to listen to the falls; the little birds' music stirring them to resume their conversation but not where they left it. Legolas took their song as a sign of good fortune for their love, and prompted him to retrieve the rings from his pocket as they were yet waiting in their box. They both watched as the nightingales flew past merrily, causing them afterwards to turn their faces to each other and smile in contentment. Legolas turned onto his side, propping his head up onto his elbow, causing her to curiously look upon him; she could tell he was thinking through his words before speaking.

"I have not yet told you of a certain custom of Elvish betrothal," he started, smiling at her endearingly.

Vezely smirked while saying in jest, "Does it also involve flowers?"

He laughed slightly, "No," he shook his head at her aptitude for misplaced amusement, then adding with some composure, "Something a little more enduring."

Vez now grew curious, "Alright, what is it?" her smile encouraging him.

He sat up and the small box appeared in an outstretched hand, which Vez narrowed her eyes on, her interest causing her to also sit up. "My father brought these with him," he smiled down upon it and slowly opened the lid as he explained to her, "These rings were forged in the kingdom of Doriath, when the girdle of Melian yet protected its borders from the growing evils of Angband. They were worn by my grandparents for the year of their betrothal, and later by my parents during theirs. They are of silver, though it is a silver that never tarnishes," he took them out of the box and balanced them on the palm of one hand, while his other brought her right hand in his, "They are for us now," he affirmed, "To be replaced with gold ones on our marriage day."

Vez's eyes wavered on his, her mouth slightly parted as he spoke; these rings were precious family heirlooms, passed down each generation, and now given to him by his father to bless their union. She had never felt more unworthy of a gift.

"Will you permit me?" he asked softly, as one of the rings was perched between his index finger and thumb.

She nodded yet speechless, and he slid the simple band onto her finger; a smile lighting up her face as he did. She would then take the ring he yet held, and taking his right hand, she asked similarly, "And will you permit me?" And after she slid the ring onto his finger, her hand did not release his.

They clasped both hands in front of them, "With these rings we are officially betrothed," he confirmed proudly, causing them to grin at each other. Finally there was some formality to their unusual partnership; and after so long hiding it from others, they now wore a token that hailed visible their bond.

"I promise to treasure this when I am away," she told him sincerely, "I shall never remove it from my hand."

"Nor shall I," he promised equally, cupping the side of her face and leaning in to kiss her. She moved forward to meet his lips, and they expressed their devotion tenderly, parting only to look at each other with longing.

This moment of visual appreciation was quickly ended and replaced with physical appreciation, as their lips met again but with greater passion stirred by the prior moment's significance. Soon overtaken with desire, Vezely crashed into him, her arms clasping his neck as he graciously pulled her onto his lap, and he parted his mouth to receive a kiss unlike he had before, relishing in how her tongue roamed over his lips and against his, afterwards realizing quite literally he was at her mercy and knew not how he had collapsed on the grass behind him. Taking her on top of him, his hands roamed her back as they kissed with this newfound passion. Vezely trailed her kisses against his jaw line, wandering them down his neck, causing him to tilt his head back in pleasure before her lips again found his.

With her legs straddling his hips, he boldly decided to change positions to be on top, turning her carefully onto her back, but Vez unintentionally winced as she touched the ground, causing Legolas to stop and look upon her with concern.

Undeterred, however, she replied smoothly, "Pleasure can be mixed with pain;" a seductive smirk forming on her lips afterwards, causing him to pause as he considered what she was referring to.

He bit his bottom lip as his thoughts wandered, but he tried not to be sidetracked from making sure she was unharmed, "We should make sure we did not disturb your stitches."

"Alright," Vez spoke mischievously, brazenly unbuttoning her blouse for him to take the look he desired, causing him to blush as she opened it all the way, revealing only her thin, close-fitting sheath underneath, "See," there was no blood coming through her dressing linens, "It's fine."

Relieved, he then smiled down upon her, and his fingertips began slowly tracing her now bare decollage, causing her to close her eyes to fully enjoy the sensation. He would find himself satisfyingly partaking in what he desired to do the night before, to kiss her in these new places. As he trailed kisses up her neck, she nibbled on his ear, overwhelming him, and knowing this she wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him closer to her. And as his hands roamed quite liberally over her body, he stalled a moment and looked upon her, for he needed reassurance of his forward actions. She knew he was concerned, for suddenly they had gone quite farther than they had before.

"I know we are waiting for our marriage day," she whispered to him, lovingly placing a strand of his hair behind his ear. Vezely desired as he did to uphold the sanctity of their union and wait until the ceremony to consummate their marriage. For now they were betrothed and betrothed they would remain until they met again and could fulfill that vow. And thus with this promise in place, they were not again deterred from enjoying this newfound intimacy.

As night fell, they decided to stay in Ithilien instead of returning; believing their absence in Minas Tirith could be stretched until the following morning.

"...I hope it does not rain," Vez considered while taking a deep breath and feeling the air's crispness fill her lungs; she was carrying back some collected dried branches while Legolas set to work kindling a small fire.

"And if it does, it is nothing two Woodelves cannot handle," he mused mirthfully, causing her to grin at being called a Woodelf, for she had never been titled so before.

She would join his side in front of the fire, and they cuddled together, enjoying their body's warmth and closeness, the sound of the fire and the woods surrounding them. At one point, Legolas began softly singing, surprising her with his voice and the beauty of what he sung about.

"I did not know you could sing," she spoke when he had finished, her eyes enchanted on his.

"All Elves can sing," he replied, tracing her jaw line with his finger, finding the starlight reflected in her eyes delightful, "I do so when I am moved."

His response made her blush slightly, for he implied she had moved him. Then remarking on his former statement, she countered, "Not all Elves can sing."

Knowing she meant herself, he quickly refuted her assertion, "But I have heard you sing, on the fields before the White City."

"That was different. That was not a song of beauty that is sung for appreciation of its sound," she denied his understanding.

"Then sing such a song for me," he requested, looking at her with a hopeful smile.

She shook her head, "I remember the tune of only one Elvish song, and I'm afraid it will only create sadness in my heart to sing it," and he knew she spoke of the Forest River song which her mother sang to her as a child.

"Then sing a song that is not of Elvish tongue. A song of beauty from Rhun," he yet urged her.

Vezely knew not many songs of love or devotion, not because they did not exist but because she had never sung them. But there was one song of the Balchoth that at that moment found its way back to her memory, and while uncertain her voice could carry its tune well, she proceeded with some effort. Legolas closed his eyes as she sang, enjoying the unique contours of her voice in this language he knew not. And when finished he asked her of its meaning.

"It is a love song," was all Vezely would tell him, for as she sang it she realized the words which spoke of separation and unworthiness were indeed too personal and painful to share its exact translation; and brushing off the sorrow this realization suddenly caused her, she added in slight embarrassment having performed for him, "Like I said, I am no skilled songstress."

"I disagree," Legolas corrected her softly, kissing the back of her hand, "We shall sing more for each other. And sing together, for I will teach you many songs from our woods, if you desire to learn them..."

As the night progressed, they held each other close; the morning's events only a memory, their worries ahead still shrouded from thought. Vezely would whisper in the silence, "Legolas, I love you," realizing she had never said it before.

"I love you too, Vezely," Legolas replied, afterwards holding her a little closer than before.

* * *

"I assure you, my intention was not to encourage your son to neglect his duties, only to provide him some joy before the sorrow of her departure," Elrond rationalized his position with Thranduil as they walked away from the gathering of ambassadors to discuss the matter further. Legolas's father was not pleased when hearing his son's absence at the afternoon's council meeting was assisted by the Elf lord. "Besides," Elrond reasoned further, "After this morning's courtyard spectacle, is it not better for him to be spared the afternoon evading stares and questions? And when he returns, perhaps the rumor now circulating can be turned into common knowledge on his behalf?"

"However misunderstood it may be," Thranduil stated bluntly. He knew Elrond had his son's heart in mind, thus he settled his initial desire to rebuke him for encouraging such irresponsibility. But he was yet uncomfortable by Vezely's prior display of brute behavior and what it meant for announcing their betrothal.

"Legolas's honor is beyond question," Elrond added reassuringly, "I do not believe knowledge of this can undermine that."

Perhaps Thanduil knew this, for Legolas had truly gained respect, not only in the eyes of their kin, but in the eyes of men and dwarves. Then confiding, as if seeking advice, "Perhaps I find myself less concerned about his honor and more of his heart."

"Of this sentiment I know too well," Elrond placed a hand on Thranduil's shoulder, for he held an equal concern of his own daughter, Arwen, whose hand he would soon be giving away in marriage to Aragorn.

"Forgive me," Thranduil apologized, his eyes displaying concern, knowing the decision Arwen had made, and that Elrond was essentially losing a daughter.

"We only want what is right for our children," Elrond replied appreciating recognition of his sorrow. "Knowing that Aragorn brings her happiness eases my suffering over Arwen's decision," then he added considering, "There may be little assurance of Vezely return and redemption, but take heart in knowing she is less reckless than she appears, and that she understands her culture and acts with honorable consideration of others within it. There is hope she will accomplish what the Valar intend for her, and her love for your son will stay her on that path and lead them back together. She will not abandon him..."

* * *

Walking down the corridor, Vez chuckled quietly to herself, mischievously thinking of an alternative use for the small bouquet of white flowers she held in her hand. Just minutes before she ran into Shelbi, the young house maid she assisted after the scuffle in the Dim Quarters. The youth had heard from other house workers of Vezely's injury, since rumors about blood needing to be cleaned up in the central courtyard spread quickly. Legolas and Vezely arrived back at Minas Tirith just after dawn and since Legolas had to prepare for the morning's council meeting, Vez made her way to the kitchen hall to meet the hobbits for their first breakfast. There Shelbi found her and handed her this bouquet, picked from her mother's garden, as a farewell gift if she should not see her again before her departure. It was a gesture Vez was uncertain how to respond to, and it did set inside her a strange realization that she should not see the young woman again. Farewells were awkward trials of emotions, and she loathed thinking of conducting several in a few days to come.

Before rounding the corner to the next corridor, she overheard Elvish tongue being spoken, halting her in her tracks. _Odd_ , she thought, considering all Elves would be attending that morning's council meeting. She swiftly swooped up her scarf over her head as a hood before cautiously peering around the corner, finding a bevy of Elves, several also cloaked and hooded. She held her breath as she suddenly believed they could hear her breathing. She had not heard that any other Elves should be in attendance and wondered where they hailed from and why they came.

"Vez?" A voice from the other end of the corridor startled her, "Is there something wrong?" Eowyn asked walking towards her, wondering why she was stalled there.

Vez placed her index fingers over her lips, telling Eowyn to keep her voice down, as she waved her over to her side. "There are more Elves here," she whispered to her concerned, motioning that they were in the next courtyard.

"More?" Eowyn mouthed, gesturing that she had no more information than her about the new arrivals. Yet the shield maiden's demeanor displayed her wonder as to why Vez preferred to keep herself hidden from view and appeared to be eavesdropping on her own kin.

Vez however was too distracted to notice Eowyn's reaction to her peculiarity, listening instead as they walked off, and not turning back to Eowyn until she believed they had moved to the next corridor.

"Are you alright?" Eowyn then asked her concerned, for she had hoped to find Vez that morning and discuss with her something else.

Vez straightened her posture, realizing she probably appeared ridiculous spying like that. "I'm fine," she stated unconcerned.

"I mean, are you _alrigh_ t? From yesterday? Eowyn asked again, her tone hinting she was referring to the incident with Faramir, for it was a worry on her mind since she heard, "I do not know what to say..."

Vez shook her head, not allowing her friend to feel anymore awkwardness, "You do not need to say anything, nor would I speak ill to you of one you hold dear. The Steward and I do not stand on common ground, and yesterday, we both did what we deemed to be right. And I will heal and take no more heed of it. Do not feel you need to intervene in this."

"But you are my friend and he is my..." she paused, affirming her position, "Vez, it is hard for me not to feel obligated to intervene."

Vez smiled and placed a hand on her sidearm, "And doing so would only tire you. There is no mediation that can be wrought to mend our differences, and that is alright. You will still remain my friend and I hope to remain yours."

Eowyn did not entirely want to give up trying to bring civility between two she held close, but gauged now from Vez, and earlier from her talk with Faramir, that neither of them sought reconciliation. Perhaps it was just something that needed to be left as is.

* * *

After returning that morning, the officially betrothed couple quietly snuck back into their wing of the guest villa, and Legolas ran off for a bath before that morning's council meeting. On the way to the council hall, he would be approached by Thalion, who pulled him aside.

"I admit to being without words, my friend," he began hesitantly.

"Then words you do not need," he remarked bluntly, knowing exactly what Thalion referred to, but also knowing despite saying this, his friend was not one to hold his tongue.

"But the rumors cannot be true about you and this Elleth. Surely you are not..." He paused, not being able to say it.

Legolas held up his hand displaying the silver ring, a universal symbol of betrothal, replying, "Surely I am not betrothed to this Elleth?"

"But how did this happen?" Thalion stated in disbelief, for betrothed went beyond what even he initially suspected.

"You ask how ones heart falls in love?" Legolas rebuked mildly, realizing he'd be fielding these types of questions all day.

Thalion looked at him dejected, but defended himself carefully, "My friend, even you know it is unexpected, for you would not have hidden it for so long if you did not."

Legolas knew he was being unkind and lightened his manner, "Forgive me, Thalion. I desire only acceptance for both Vezely and our relationship."

Not relaying his own position on it, Thalion asked instead, "And your father?"

"I would not be wearing this ring if I did not gain his blessing," he stated what Thalion did not expect, but hoping to explain further, "I know she is responsible for your brother's death, and has rightfully gained a reputation to appear incapable of love or to be loved in return, but as I spent more time with her," he paused while thinking back to the start of their relationship, he cupped his friend's shoulder, "She fills my heart my friend, I cannot explain it, but no other has moved me as she does. We talked of this in our youth, that despite the Elf maidens we met, none could be deemed more than friends, and we wondered what it was like to meet someone that caused us to think differently..." Noting his friend's unconvinced demeanor, he added, "Please do not think my feelings are ill-considered, for nothing in my life have I considered more than this."

Thalion measured his friend's words, conceding, "I am a bad friend, questioning your betrothal instead of congratulating you on the obvious happiness you have found. And here I suspected your concern for her was simply kindness or pity," he smiled slightly at his miscomprehension, "If she is the one who fills your heart, then obviously she is not who she appears to be."

"May I have a word, son," Thanduil cupped Legolas's shoulder; having not seen his son since the morning before and desiring to talk to him before the council.

Before giving father and son their space, Thalion stated politely to Thranduil, "Congratulations my lord, on your son's betrothal," and he tilted his head down, giving a warm smile to Legolas before taking off.

Thranduil watched him leave before his eyes glanced down at his son's crossed arms, finding the silver ring adorning his finger. Thranduil now realized he was in for a day of dubious congratulations and the possibility of fielding awkward questions. "I am not pleased by your absence yesterday, or your partner's noontime theatrics," he spoke quietly but firm, "I hope for your sake she is quite done making scenes." Instead of allowing his son to respond, Thranduil moved on, saying as soon as Legolas opened his mouth, "I will say and hear no more of it," and he turned his attention to matters pertaining to what he missed in council yesterday.

They would enter the hall together and Legolas noted the scornful eyes of Lady Adele watching him as he took a seat. He met her stare only briefly, but he gauged as she turned her eyes away that she was displeased with him. Legolas knew at that moment, lunch break would be interesting.

* * *

The afternoon spent with Eowyn further cheered Vezely, for she was grateful the shield maiden's life appeared to be moving towards one of happiness and good fortune, regardless of her choice in a husband. Knowing that the soon begotten Fourth Age would be one of peace and prosperity for many of those she left behind, would comfort her on the darker days ahead.

She was again hooded by her scarf, not desiring to be recognized by the unknown Elvish guests, and she yet carried the bouquet of white flowers in her hand as she made her way to her guest room. She was not yet willing to dispose of them, despite several losing their petals and their stems being bent slightly by her rough handling. She supposed they should be placed in water, or at least that is what she knew people did to preserve their beauty after being cut from their source. Perhaps that cup she never returned to the kitchen hall could serve a secondary purpose, instead of simply being added clutter to her untidy desk. That was her plan that afternoon; to organize her room and finalize her maps for the journey, knowing the coronation day would leave little time for it.

Yet as she rounded into the corridor that led to her wing, she found at the far end two Elven guards standing tall; their position and stance made it seem like they were cordoning off the entrance. Since the guards already spotted her and she was yet determined to return to her room, she held her head high and kept walking.

The guards stepped forward, and held their hand out, "Halt...my lady," the one said in Westron; hesitating because by the looks of her garments he was unsure of her gender at first, "This wing if off-limits for the afternoon."

"By whose orders?" Vez asked sternly, her hand clenching the flowers in her grip slightly tighter as she placed her fists on her hips.

"We are not at liberty to say, my lady," he replied politely, "But all guests not of the Elvish descent are to be diverted from entrance to this wing for the afternoon. We apologize for the inconvenience."

Vez raised an eyebrow skeptically, amused how easily she could pass as a race not her own before saying determined, "Apology not accepted. I'm going to my room," she boldly stepped forward, but the guard placed a hand on her shoulder, stopping her.

"It is but for the afternoon, my lady," the guard maintained politeness.

It was then that Vez swooped down her hood and declared in Elvish tongue, "And I am of Elvish descent so your refusal is invalid," and she provided a brief grin before he released his hand from her and stepped back.

"Forgive us, my lady. We could not tell from your raiment," he replied in their shared language, tilting his head down slightly. Then feeling he owed her an explanation, he said, "We stand guard by order of the Lady Galadriel, who arrived from the north with Lord Glorfindel and the children of Lord Elrond this morning. The presence of the Lady Arwen is not to be made known to Lord Aragorn until the coronation, so we are not permitted to let guests through who may not understand and accidentally reveal this arrangement."

Vez tilted her head slightly to the side while soaking in this information, finding herself amused at the liberalness with which he provided it to her, "And you trust unknown members of your kin enough with this information?" she smirked slightly, thinking proper guards shouldn't do that.

"You are Lady Vezely, daughter of Lord Eluréd of the House of Dior. You are known to us and we were told to expect you," the guard replied undeterred but still courteous, "Again, please forgive our initial failure to recognize you."

Vez blinked upon hearing her name and lineage spelled out for her, and to be told she was expected. Replying slightly beside herself, "Don't worry about it;" and she nodded to each of them politely before turning to go in the direction she originally desired to go, but now with great hesitancy.

She realized that Elrond's daughter was indeed going to marry Aragorn, which was a cheerful tiding indeed and she should not be troubled by them quietly using this wing for privacy before the coronation. But what unsettled her greatly was hearing that Minas Tirith gained in residence two extremely powerful Elves, perhaps the mightiest in Middle Earth; ones whose legends she had recently learnt. They held powers which went beyond any Eldar she had met; for they were of the High Elves and had seen the light of the Two Trees of Valinor when once they stood. Why this should make her so uncomfortable she knew not, but as she continued her strides she felt that the echo of her steps grew louder, and that her un-Elflike bearing and the hood now swooped again over her ears, would not be enough to hide behind anymore.


	42. Glorfindel and Those Close of Kin

"You had me worried there, laddy," Gimli exclaimed cheerfully after hearing from Legolas of his betrothal, "I'd thought you'd miss your chance..."

During the break, Legolas first informed Aragorn and Gimli of his betrothal, and though for them the news was not unexpected, they were indeed pleased to hear the couple formalized their relationship before Vez departed.

"I am happy for you my friend," Aragorn spoke warmly to him in Elvish, cupping his shoulder, "May she swiftly return to your arms." An unspoken sorrow was then exchanged between them, and Legolas knew Aragorn thought of Arwen. There was little consolation he could give him for even he did not know of the arrangement made by Lord Elrond to give his daughter away at the following day's coronation. It would not be made known to all Elves until later that afternoon.

As Legolas approached the group of ambassadors from his own realm, an awkward silence fell among them and several eyes briefly shifted downward, perhaps to catch a glimpse of the silver ring now fitted on his finger. He looked upon Thalion who stood among them, and knew then that his friend had spoken to them of his news.

Then one of the eldest among them, Arphenion, stepped towards the young prince and spoke words on all of their behalf, "Tidings unexpected come from the mouth of Lord Thalion. Is it true, my lord, that you intend to wed the Elf from Rhun and not Lady Adele from Lothlorien?"

Before Legolas opened his mouth, his father who had followed him there concerned for how this would be handled, announced it for him, "My son is to wed Vezely, the daughter of Eluréd of the House of Dior. Words of congratulations are all that need to be spoken." While Thranduil knew he could do little to mend Vezely's reputation, at the very least, he would not allow anyone from his realm to call her by anything other than the title that spoke of her respectable lineage.

Arphenion tilted his head down in reverence to the king, "Forgive us our need for confirmation, my lord."

"It is alright, Arphenion," Legolas intervened calmly before he or anyone else said anymore. Legolas was appreciative of his father's desire to save him from conflict, but he did not want to brush away their concerns so easily for it would leave much open to question. "I left my relationship unspoken for fear of the misunderstanding it would garner. I know now this was not in vain for I can see it in your eyes. And while I seek your blessing, I will not dissuade you from harboring these thoughts of doubt or from forming words which speak against it. You all know me well, and know my choices in life are not without consideration of our people. If this dissuades those pledged to tend the forests of Ithilien by my side or to look upon me less favorable than before, then so be it. But I am not ashamed by my betrothal to Vezely. Instead, my heart is gladdened to have found my life partner."

The sincerity and openness of Legolas's speech gave all need to reflect on their prior thoughts and with care in his own voice, Arphenion replied, "My lord, none among us will speak ill of your happiness. And I offer you my congratulations," and he tilted his head down politely.

"Gratitude ," Legolas replied grateful that one as respected as Arphenion first spoke this.

"Will you be married within the year, my lord?"Lady Siladhiel then asked wondering as they all did if it would be a traditional betrothal.

"There is no set date for the ceremony as of yet," Legolas exclaimed, "And no plans until Vezely returns from what needs to be accomplished in Rhun. But when she does return, then we shall wed."

Silahiel smiled brightly, "We look forward to celebrating that day with you, my lord."

Legolas was cheered by the support of his kin, though doubtless they held queries and would talk amongst themselves of this unexpected development. Most wondered how one as fair, noble, and honest as their prince could find partnership with an Elf of such foul reputation, even if she had fought bravely in the war just past.

Legolas quietly thanked his father for his interference after, but Thranduil brushed him off, explaining, "Are we not lords of our realm?" Thus, reminding his son who was set to take the helm of an Elf colony in Ithilien, that as a leader, one at times makes decisions that not all agree with, and as a leader, one has the right to do so.

It was then that Lord Celeborn approached father and son, greeting them before saying to Thranduil, "I understand now why our arrangement most certainly could not be met," referring to their desire to try and court Legolas and Lady Adele.

Legolas tilted his head down respectfully, as his father replied to Celeborn, "Forgive me for not being upfront concerning my son's partnership when speaking on matters of his refusal."

"There is no need for an apology," Celeborn replied kindly, then looking at Legolas he queried, "War is an unusual time to find partnership."

Legolas smiled slightly uncomfortable; he was at least grateful the question did not necessary pertain negatively to the partner in question, "I do not disagree. Though in such times, one's heart is perhaps most in need."

Celeborn nodded, adding carefully, "Indeed. This news does much to change opinion of her."

"Vezely is by all appearances hard as stone and sharp as nails," Legolas agreed, and he knew this was the face she preferred to show publically, "But she is not without heart or care of others. Despite her past, she has not forsaken this world."

Celeborn smiled slightly, confirming politely, "She is after all, counted among the Eldar."

Legolas smiled, "Counted yes, and to be accepted, much desired to be..."

And thus the news of their betrothal traveled among the Elvish ambassadors, and many of them held such great respect for the young prince that they were not begrudged to offer him congratulations. Yet, with Vezely being forbidden to sail to Valinor for her deeds, they wondered of his resolve. Would his heart be able to suffer the call of the sea and wait upon her uncertain return?

Then there was Lady Adele, who, though suspecting Legolas's heart was not free to give her, had not expected it to have already been given to another and to one so unlike her in image and mind. Most of the Elvish ambassadors knew of their intended courtship and had witnessed their interactions together the first days of council. To suddenly be told of this new development made her feel slightly sullied in their eyes for not having known, as well as embarrassed for having been passed over for someone deemed uncouth. Despite her aptitude for propriety, it was hard for her to feel glad for Legolas or to think kindly of his chosen partner. And thus, she withheld her congratulations at that time.

Vezely tried softening her footsteps as she rounded the corridor that led into the wing's central courtyard; her ears hearing over the fountain's babbling water a conversation taking place between two men. From what she could discern, they were arguing over whether the pattern of courtyard's inlayed tile was the same throughout. She tarried slightly before coming into view, removing her hood suddenly believing it would appear conspicuous for her to be cloaked when returning to her own chambers.

Her presence inevitably elicited their attention. Only two there were; one that stood and another that sat on the fountain's ledge with his arms crossed; both dark-haired and cloaked in lush, velvet fabrics that were similar in the style and colors that other Elves from Imladris wore.

"You must be Lady Vezely," the Elf who stood walked towards her, as the other rose from his seat; his gaze glanced over her raiment and hair curiously but he was not deterred by it.

"You are Lord Elrond's sons?" assuming after equally observing them and realizing the two males were twins, and each had the dark hair and grey eyes of their father; resembling him slightly in bearing.

"That we are," he smiled warmly, "And we are close of kin," he then looked to his brother behind him who was coming to his side.

Vezely noted they both displayed kindness in their eyes for this and she replied politely, "And since we are close of kin, please call me Vezely. But forgive me, I do not know your names."

"Ah, I am Elrohir and the lesser image of me is Elladan," causing his brother to shake his head as he was often the butt of his jokes.

"Lesser only in foolishness," Elladan rejoined proudly stopping aside his brother and providing her a courteous Elvish greeting by outstretching his hand from his chest, "It is a pleasure to meet you, Vezely."

"And it is a glad surprise to be greeted by both of you so kindly," Vezely replied, tilting her head down with her fist against her chest in Easterling greeting. "I had not expected your presence in Minas Tirith."

"None save a few of our kin do I am afraid, though it is for good reason," Elladan relayed pleasantly.

"The guard mentioned your sister, Arwen," Vezely mentioned.

"Aye, for only after the king's crowning will Arwen present herself," Elladan explained, and while Vezely did not understand this custom, she did not desire to question it.

Elrohir then added, "Until then, we will keep ourselves hidden from the men and dwarves in this section of the guest villa, which we are told only you and Lord Legolas hold residence."

"That we do," she affirmed, betraying nothing of her relationship with the prince. Now she wondered where the others in their company had strayed, for they couldn't be far if that was their intent. "Are there guards stationed at each entrance?" She asked, wondering about the corridor that extended beyond the north side of the hallway.

"There are," a firm, but pleasant voice called from behind her, causing her to pivot towards it. There she beheld a tall, imposing figure walking towards her; an Elf of shining gold hair and fair of face; his grey eyes seemed aflame and the wisdom that peered through them surpassed any of the Elf lords she had met. The grandness of his presence and strength of his aura caused Vez to take a half step back in momentary trepidation and her hands twitched slightly, yearning to grab the handles of her sai tucked into her boot's side holders. In that moment she felt as if the prior century had not passed and she beheld a far worthier adversary sent by the Valar to smite her for her allegiance to Sauron.

The Elf lord narrowed his bright eyes slightly, curious of this reaction for he knew much about her dark past, though less so about her present; save for what Lord Elrond mentioned of their brief meeting in Dunharrow.

"Ah, Lord Glorfindel," Elladan greeted him pleasantly, not noticing Vez's odd reaction, "They let Lady Vezely through as requested. Oh, I do hope the guards did not treat you unkindly," Elladan then asked her, finding himself remiss for not doing so.

"No, they did not," Vez replied unconcerned, having again regained her composure, quickly putting on her mental armor. "You are the Glorfindel of Gondolin? A balrog slayer of the First Age?" she then asked both boldly and skeptically, needing confirmation; for the tale of the fall of Gondolin which Legolas relayed to her recently was still fresh on her mind. When he told her of the Fellowship's journey through the mines of Moria and how they encountered a balrog of Morgoth, it led to a discussion of these creatures and their terror in the First Age. She could not fathom any Elf was powerful enough to defeat one, but alas, many were and he relayed to her the story of Glorfindel and his sacrifice. It was not a tale she expected to hear, nor to discover that these Elves of old had powers imbued in them by the lands of the Valar, and that they were considerably more powerful than any of the Elves born since.

He tilted his head to the side slightly, finding her question odd, "I am."

She stared at him in thought; knowing he spoke the unbelievable truth. She then placed her right fist on her chest and bowed her head low and long as an Easterling would to greet a mighty warrior, declaring, "Then it is a great honor to meet you, lord."

Glorfindel was counted honorable by the Valar, but not for having slain a Balrog, but for having fought hard and given his life so that others may live. He asked skeptically of her greeting, "And why is it for this deed you deem me worthy of respect?"

"My respect you would still receive as a lord of Elves, but I hail from a culture which valorizes strength, and certainly you have proven to possess it. For that, it is a greater honor to make your acquaintance," she replied firmly, though she found looking in his eyes unsettling.

A curious smile graced his lips, she was a strange Elf indeed, he thought, even to one who had seen and met many in his long life. And in observation of her shorn locks, the gold earrings lining her ears, and her foreign garb, he found in stark contrast a small bouquet of white flower clasped in her left hand. There she dangled them without care by her side and their stems appeared to him misshapen and their petals wilted. "Hold out your hand," he requested her, to which she narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"Why?" she asked distrustfully; for even if he was a mighty lord, she was not one to follow strange orders.

He calmly lifted his own hand, his palm upward and pointed towards the bouquet, encouraging her to show him what she held. With her eyes still narrowed on his, she acquiesced to his request and lifted the bouquet. He then carefully took them by the stems and upon holding them in his light grasp, the flowers seemed to reinvigorate and gain new life.

"Strength should not be why one garners respect, nor is it why I returned to Middle Earth as an emissary of the Valar, Vezely, daughter of Eluréd," he stated returning the renewed flowers to her hand, and she looked upon them as one would some cursed object of sorcery. "Respect should be reserved for those that are kind and selfless."

"You have obviously never been to Rhun," Vez replied bluntly, crossing her arms, flowers still in hand, to show she did not agree with his point.

He was surprised by her irreverence, for it was rare to have one so young speak to him so brazenly. Both Elladan and Elrohir looked at each other and relayed their amusement, for even they would not talk disrespectfully to Glorfindel, despite knowing him well. He then stated assuredly, raising one eyebrow as he walked past her to the fountain's side with his hands clasped behind him, "Yet I believe your care takers in Rhun would not disagree."

Vezely's eyes perked up, and turning towards him, "You are acquainted with the Blue Wizards?"

"I traveled from Valinor with them and fare welled them before their journey Eastward," Glorfindel replied staring down in thought at the fountain's pool.

"So you would not know of their current whereabouts," she acknowledged, for their ship sailed to Middle Earth during the Second Age; her tone betrayed that she was disheartened, for she still lacked any confirmation of their safety.

"You will search them out?" He asked realizing her thoughts while yet looking down at the rippling water.

"I will try," Vez straightened her posture and uncrossed her arms as she spoke of her charge, "Their aid will be needed if Rhun is to reclaim stability."

"Elladan, Elrohir," Glorfindel spoke without looking up, "Leave us."

And with his command, the twins departed, exchanging a warm smile with Vezely as they left; and Vez watched their backs as they disappeared down the long corridor, feeling uncomfortable being left alone with the Elf Lord.

It was then that Glorfindel turned from the fountain and looked upon the young Elf, who now stood more respectfully. He then spoke as if one of the Valar, declaring, "As with the Eldar, the Istari's time in Middle Earth is ending, and the age of Men must come into being. You may ride as leader into Rhun, but you must leave it in the hands of the Second Born and fade also."

She furled her brow slightly wondering if this message was cryptic, or if again she was being tested on the morality of her charge. She responded firmly, "I do not seek to stay in Rhun after the aid I can provide is given. And whether others deem it fair or not, I am now counted among the Eldar, as that choice was given. And as such, I would eventually follow my kin into the far West, but that choice is yet revoked."

"Do you disagree with this decision?" he asked pointedly, wondering her disposition on the Valar and their will.

Again she felt tested, "No, it is as it should be for what I have done," was all she replied but in stoic tone, but her concern was apparent to him.

"But you desire to reside in Valinor?" he implored her to continue her thoughts.

"My desire is not to experience the bliss or beauty of the realm, which tales speak highly of," she tilted her head slightly higher, "But to be with those who would find their dwelling within it."

Glorfindel gained a sense that her yearning was strong, but rather it was to remain by the side of another who would dwell there. He was quick to connect this statement with the betrothal ring he saw on her right hand. His eyes noted it when she greeted him, when pressing her fist to her chest; finding the sheen of pure silver amid her bruised knuckles, which also gave him pause. The metal also appeared out of place alongside a gold ring and her gold earrings which were more characteristic of Easterlings' jewelry. Then he said walking to the side of her, "You should not look upon your bar from Valinor as one born entirely out of ill-favor for your corruption. There is reason why you must return Eastward before being permitted to go the other way."

"It seems I was born to serve the purposes of others," Vezely stated with mild contempt, her eyes watching him walk.

"As was I," he replied unashamed, stopping aside her, hoping to display that she should not think herself alone, or to now feel unworthy for it, "But in making the choice to aid in Rhun's recovery by your own free will, the deeds you accomplish shall not go unheeded by those whose purpose it serves."

"It is strange for my ears to hear this, for I am reminded of promises made to me by Sauron who also bid me choose to serve the purposes he had," she spoke darkly, which made Glorfindel slightly concerned of her thoughts, but she dissuaded his worry by adding, "Nay, I return East to aid in Rhun's recovery because it is a debt I owe to its people for the terror I inflicted upon their ancestors. Whatever higher purpose that may serve, so be it, but I know I leave without certainty of my fate."

Glorfindel would not answer her at that time, for a guard had come to the courtyard to hail him to the meeting among the Elven leaders. They were now gathering, having finished the last general meeting, and there both Lady Galadriel and Glorfindel would treat with them.

"We will speak again before your departure, Vezely, daughter of Eluréd," he told her before he left. And in respect, Vezely again brought her right fist to her chest and bowed her head down, saying nothing as he departed.

She would return to her room, stopping inside and leaning against her closed door to look upon the renewed bouquet of flowers in her hand as she thought of the Elf Lord's words. ...You may ride as leader into Rhun, but you must leave it in the hands of the Second Born and fade also... There is reason why you must return Eastward before being permitted to go the other way... Yet she did not let her mind linger, and instead began the tasks she set for the afternoon.

It was but ten minutes when a knock at the door came and she opened it upon one of the guards who had stopped her from entry into the wing. He apologized for disturbing her and handed her a letter which they intercepted from one of the maids charged with delivering it to her door.

Vez then noted the red wax seal of the letter was broken, "Who opened this?" she asked suspiciously, narrowing her eyes on him.

"It was not I who opened it, my lady," the guard defended himself courteously, "Lord Glorfindel requested to see the letter prior it being delivered. Again, apologies for the disruption." And with a polite nod, he left.

Already perturbed by this invasion of privacy, the letter, penned by Faramir, did little to lessen her annoyance.

Dear General,

It was brought to my attention at noontime that the prisoner who sustained a head injury during yesterday's incident has died. Gondor's records will now hold you responsible for both of the prisoner's deaths.

Steward

Yavonka, Vezely muttered her disrespectful moniker for Faramir under her breath before flinging the letter over to her cluttered desk. At least, she reasoned, trying to bring herself out of this foul mood, he titled me 'General.' She was also not downtrodden by news of the man's death, considering it alleviated her from inflicting justice for his interference in the challenge, which was already a death sentence.

She would continued her tidying and organizing, as well as sitting down at her desk to finalize the maps she'd take with her on her journey to Khand before turning northward to search out the Blue Wizards. Going through her wardrobe she pulled out the dress she would wear to tomorrow's coronation; finding it strange to see again even if little time had passed since its purchase. Its delicacy, as she ran her fingers down the soft fabric, reminded her of the flowers which she had placed and then forgotten on the entryway table after entering. Finding a discarded cup yet half-full of stale water, she placed them inside and set it on the small table aside the two chairs. She stared at them again, the Balchoth in her considering somewhat disdainfully Glorfindel's idea of respect. ...Kind and selfless...

The knock at her door stirred her from her thoughts, and opening it she found Legolas, smiling upon her, and driven by need, she embraced him, caring not to speak or to see if any others were in sight of her door. And Legolas gladly obliged her desire, pulling her into his arms, saying joyful in her ear, "If all my greetings could be this warm."

"They should be," she replied now looking upon him, cheered by his touch. She stood aside to allow him entry, remarking surprised as he passed her, "The day's councils are already finished?" Having not realized the time.

"They are. And it would appear our small corridor has obtained new guests," he added furtively before she closed the door, in case keen ears were set to listen. "And with news that warms the heart. To now know a dear friend's happiness will soon be realized." And Vez knew he spoke of Aragorn and his love of Arwen. "I also hear," he turned and took her hands by her side, "You have met Lord Elrond's sons and Lord Glorfindel."

"I have," she replied appearing indifferent, hiding her curiosity in the disclosure of this information for there were more pressing matters she had worried about all day, "But what about your day? Was your father angry?"

"He was not pleased," he replied appearing somewhat satisfied by this, "But he did not begrudge Lord Elrond or I for my absence. And he even announced our betrothal to our kin."

Vez's eyes went blank, and she blinked thinking she could not have heard him right, "It was announced, and by your father?"

"You heard me correctly," he stated amused by her sudden bewilderment, "Of course they were surprised, but," he brushed his fingers down her one cheek as he engaged her eyes, "They did not revoke congratulations. And now we can attend dinner, side by my side, without worry of garnering questions for they have now been answered," he grinned, for he was cheered that this task was finally completed, having troubled him for so long; asking her after, "Are you ready?"

"For what?" Vez asked blinking once more, still dumbfounded by these unexpected tidings.

"For dinner. You are of course invited," he held her hands a little tighter. The Elves would be gathering that evening and holding a feast in honor of the new arrivals.

Vez felt like air suddenly could not find its way to her lungs; that or the lunch she forgot to eat somehow magically appeared in her stomach desiring to come back up. It was announced, she realized slowly, they know. And while she did not disbelieve his words about being provided congratulations, now realizing Legolas had garnered such respect from his people that nothing could wreck their faith in him, she could not fathom appearing in front of them with it being known.

Legolas kissed the back of her hand, noting what he believed to be fright amid her silence, "It will be fine," he promised softly, "No one will speak ill to you, and if they do, they will not just face your wrath," he then smirked slightly, knowing she was not one to hold her tongue nor should she have to if someone decided to be rude.

This remark broke her tension enough to crack a weary smile, but then reasoning out of it hastily, "But the last thing we need is another scene caused by my manners. Perhaps I should not go," knowing yesterday's confrontation with Faramir over slaying a Variag prisoner would still be on their minds.

Legolas looked upon her curiously, "I have not known you to be deterred by anything."

She straightened her posture, "I am not deterred. I am simply..." she could not find the right words to explain how awkward she felt about going; she realized she did not know how to act as his betrothed or how to react properly to those who might either congratulate or question her. He raised one eyebrow, imploring her to continue her reasoning. "Alright, I am being foolish. I will grab my scarf."

Legolas stopped before they headed down the entrance corridor and saying nothing, he held out his elbow, desiring for her to lay her hand on it and allow him to escort her. She hesitated before doing so; aware that this would be the most uncomfortable she had ever felt arriving at an event in her life.

They were not late this time, instead they were slightly early and the newly arrived guests and realm leaders were not yet present, but most of Legolas's kinsfolk were. Thalion, who stood aside Lady Adele, whispered to her after he saw them, "And there they are," turning the Elf maiden's head towards the couple as others did the same. For Thalion, it was strange to see his closest friend clasped to one whose company's arrival into Mirkwood resulted in his brother's removal from Middle Earth. It unsettled him slightly, but such feelings would not deter him from being polite. He motioned to go and greet them, but Lady Adele lightly grasped his arm. "Please stay by side me, Lord Thalion," she requested him softly, turning his face to hers.

"Would you care to join me in congratulating them, my lady?" Thalion wondered of her touch, for he was determined to do as a close friend is expected.

Suddenly Adele felt unawares, for that was not her intent; she wanted Thalion to stay aside her in shunning the new couple. Though she paused momentary, she agreed to join him rather than appear petty.

Silahiel and Arphenion both greeted them, saying they were glad by the tidings, and though Vez observed their mannerisms and emotions closely, she did not discern deceit lay behind their words. Maybe Elves were more accepting than she thought. And then Thalion and Lady Adele approached. He smiled warmly at Legolas and tilted his head down briefly before addressing her, "We have not been on the best of terms since first meeting, but finding that you have provided my dearest friend the happiness he has quietly sought his whole life, I hope that we could also be friends."

Vez responded kindly, "It speaks highly of your character to offer this to one who wronged you deeply in the past. Of course, I gladly accept your friendship," and they exchanged a warm smile.

Adele looked notably pensive, unsure of what words to offer or to offer any, but she ended up addressing Legolas directly, stating bluntly, "I assumed correctly. Indeed, your heart was not free to give."

Noting some hurt lay behind her curt words, Legolas responded carefully, "My sincerest apologies for any deceit I caused. It was wrong of me to lead you to believe otherwise."

"It was my fault," Vez interjected unwavering, her eyes shifting between the two, "I did not desire for our relationship to be known and prodded Legolas to feign what was requested of him ere it could be settled properly. Apologies for your part."

Adele's glared at her unmoved; it was not the warmest apology she had heard, even if it appeared genuinely constructed, considering the woman's character. She nodded curtly, but before responding, their realms' leaders and the new guests were entering from the far corridor, turning everyone's attention their way.

Lord Elrond was escorting his daughter, Arwen Undómiel, who was dressed in a gown of pale blue, embellished with silver threads and crystal beads that glittered under the starlight. Her beauty was unparalleled to any of the Elf maidens there, even Lady Adele; showing reason behind her description as Lúthienreborn. Elrond looked proud, but subtle hints of melancholy were apparent behind his small smile and twinkling grey eyes. His twin sons, Elladan and Elrohir, were also aside them, their gait matching that of their father. Following behind was King Thranduil and Lord Glorfindel, who had been conversing, though their speech was paused as they came into everyone's view. Thranduil's eyes first found his son in the crowd, and then shifted to Vezely, noting she had indeed attended by his side. Then a multitude of unpleasant scenarios of the evening ahead raced through his mind, and he was ill-pleased. Vez sneered slightly upon seeing Glorfindel, displeased he had opened the letter addressed to her, while further wondering why he did so.

The last to enter was Lord Celeborn, escorting the Lady Galadriel. Both were dressed in silver garb, though it was not the fabric that shined, but Galadriel who appeared to give off a radiance all her own. This was the powerful High Elven sorceress of Golden Wood Vezely had heard so many stories of; a member of the White Council and protector of one of the three Elven rings. After one glance, Vez diverted her gaze; her strong aura unsettled her as did Glorfindel's. All Elves bowed their heads down in respect before them, and Vez followed suit; glad it would momentarily hide the strain in her eyes and give her a moment to settle her discomfort.

All Elvish ambassadors were now in attendance, and Lord Elrond greeted them, announcing his daughter's betrothal to Aragorn and hoping all would celebrate this and the ending of the general council meetings. Many of the ambassadors went to pay their respects, and Vez looked upon Legolas with a forced smile. He placed a hand gently on the small of her back; receiving some reassurance in his presence before they would also greet them. They would first go before Lord Elrond and Lady Arwen, who Legolas held in the highest esteem as the lady of Aragorn. And he greeted her warmly as Vez stood quietly by his side. Lord Elrond then brought Arwen's attention to Vezely, introducing her as close kin.

"I am glad to make your acquaintance," Vez stated politely, tilting her head down.

But Arwen brought her hands lightly to the sides of Vezely's face, bringing her uncertain eyes to hers as she was shocked to suddenly be touched. A kind smile formed across Arwen's face as she spoke with a voice of a songbird, declaring in solemn realization, "We have both been driven by love to choose. With this we share much more than blood." This gave Vez pause, wondering how she knew her choice to disregard the gift of man would result in never seeing her Balchoth family again, as Arwen's choice to accept the gift meant she would be separated by death from her Elven family. Vez's eyes then displayed sorrow, for it was a weighty decision and she felt even more so for the Elf before her. Though both knew it was the only one right for their hearts. Afterwards Vezely thanked Lord Elrond for his care yesterday, telling him her shoulder was healing quickly.

Since many others desired to greet Arwen, they did not linger and Vez told Legolas she wanted to speak to his father. He again offered her his arm as escort, and while yet awkward by accepting the gesture in public, she took it, her eyes shifting to discern who may have been watching them.

Knowing it was needed to be said, Vez greeted Thranduil with an explanation, "My apologies for yesterday, my lord. I did not intend for the business with my men to escalate or for it then be brought to the attention of others."

Thranduil looked at her perturbed, chiding her, "You have not made things any easier for yourself."

"I know," Vez returned bluntly, "But your support of our partnership," her voice grew more serious and her eyes sincere, "It has gone beyond all I could have imagined. Thank you, truly."

Thranduil yet looked upon her sternly, "I will always support my son."

Vez tilted her chin down in respect, saying nothing, as Legolas added, "Which means," he looked at his father admonishingly, "He also support you, though he is too proud to admit it."

Unintentionally, a smirk found its way to Vezely's face and she kept her chin down and eyes diverted from Thranduil, knowing quite well he was glaring at his son, annoyed by this statement.

It was then that Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel passed behind her, instantly garnering Legolas and Thranduil's attention. Legolas turned around and bowed his head down respectfully as did Thranduil. But Vez, who somehow knew the powerful Elf was behind her, was slow to do so and her eyes, yet downcast went wide. She was not quite ready to greet her.


	43. Mind Your Manners

Vezely pivoted, but kept her head bowed low and her eyes downcast; not desiring to engage either Lord Celeborn or Lady Galadriel as they stood before her. Glorfindel stood nearby, observing the scene curiously.

In a voice both soft and forceful, Galadriel first addressed the Elvenking and spoke highly of his son's valor with the Fellowship, before greeting Legolas with glad tidings they could meet again now that Shadow had passed and his task was behind him.

But during this greeting, Vezely heard the Elf woman's voice in her head, "Do not fear me child of _Eluréd_ ," she told her, and though her tone seemed affable Vezely forewent any thought which could be taken as a reponse and instead abruptly lifted her gaze and narrowed her eyes suspiciously on her. Having finished her greeting to Legolas, she turned slowly to greet this expression with measured movement. Galadriel discerned the young Elf held displeasure at having invaded her mind; picking up Vezely's thoughts connecting this method of communication to Sauron. She wondered about this and her notable anxiety, and questioned her out loud, "For one who stood before Sauron without fear, why does trepidation stir in you now, Vezely, daughter of _Eluréd_?"

Publically announcing her dread certainly was not the intent of Vezely's refusal to answer her in her mind, making her considerably uncomfortable as those nearby turned their gaze and also awaited her reply to this accusation. She straightened her posture, and kept her eyes strong as best she could, even if the light coming from Galadriel's face was unsettling. She did not desire to appear afraid as she implied, and defended herself, "As vassal before Sauron, my deeds and character garnered only pleasure and praise. But in present company, do not all who look upon me do so with disdain and distrust? In the eyes of the powerful, am I not judged foul and placed at your mercy for this corruption?"

Despite knowing she was strong on her own, concern consumed Legolas and he took Vezely's hand by her side; hoping his touch could offer her reassurance and to remind her she was not alone.

But Galadriel's gaze remained one of compassion, and she replied with a serene voice, but spoke as if not only to Vezely, but to all the Eldar present, "None here have the right to judge you, Vezely, the least of all one who was exiled from the blessed realm," referring to her past, "The Noldor know well corruption, for is that not how your father as a child fell lost to the world and how your uncle, Elurín, perished aside him?" Vez did not expect this response and her eyes grew strained and she lowered them in shame for having spoken so boldly before. "Not many here stood during the First Age when Morgoth used our people for his evil purposes," she continued hoping to address those listening, "Brewing such distrust among us that we would not even embrace those who had freed themselves from his prisons in Angband. Instead, we shunned and outlawed those most in need, fearing their corruption would corrupt us. We should not make this mistake again and with one who desires to be embraced. You are not foul, Vezely, but strong for what you have survived and what you will soon endure," then adding after considering her thoughts, "You do not go by the name your parents gave you, but Bellethiel suits you well."

Vez looked up upon hearing her Elvish name, acknowledging with her gaze that she was grateful for the words Galadriel spoke on her behalf, and she pressed a fist to her chest and bowed her head low in deference. She heard her voice again, "Stay your path. In the end, those that do judge will discern your heart is good. Do not forsake them, for they have not yet forsaken you."

And Galadriel smiled warmly upon her before moving on. But during this time, Legolas also heard Galadriel's voice in his head, referring back to the message she gave him in Lothlorien, "Your heart will drive you to the sea, Legolas," she reminded him calmly, "Do not tarry here longer than needs be," and he wondered her meaning as he held Vezely's hand a little tighter.

Thranduil almost let out an audible sigh of relief after the eminent couple left; surprised the meeting didn't escalate into something more embarrassing. He then watched the young couple exchange a look of reassurance, but also uncertainty; and it stirred in his heart compassion for both of them.

* * *

Glorfindel stood before them, a fluted glass filled with Dorwinion wine in each hand, handing it to them and speaking, "Congratulations, a betrothal is not a small event," but Vez hesitated to except it, still disgruntled that he opened and read her mail. Legolas was quick to respond in gratitude to the Elf Lord, who then apologized politely after, "Forgive me, I need to borrow your betrothed. A small matter to be discussed."

Legolas smiled curiously, and looking at Vez, he saw she had her eyes narrowed suspiciously and he was quick to discern that she would dishonor his request; Legolas had gotten use to reading her emotions and what reactions they soon elicited. Thus to avoid her rebuking and possibly offending Lord Glorfindel, who deserved everyone's respect, he quickly answered for her, "Of course," and he touched the small of her back and provided her a look of reassurance before leaving them.

After leaving, Legolas was accosted by Elladan and Elrohir, each of them cupping his shoulders with their hands and escorting them their way, "Congratulations dear friend," they greeted him cheerfully, for they were hardly strangers, and felt close akin as all sons of powerful lords.

Elladan then shared his amusement, "You are the first of us to fall to love's bite it seems," having before all discussed their difficulty in finding suitable partners.

"Though," Elrohir commented cheekily, "I did not know warriors were your type. I thought you much preferred the delicate flowers."

"He likes the thorns, obviously," Elladan snorted, turning Legolas's narrowed eyes on him.

"Love's bite indeed," Elrohir considered back.

Legolas knew they spoke only in jest, as was often their relations with him, so he rebuked them in kind, "Appearances deceive you easily, brothers, though that is to be expected."

Elladan grinned, and then gripping his forearm, "We are happy for you, perhaps even jealous that you have found what we have not."

Elrohir nodded to agree with his brother and wondering of their interaction, confided, "Lord Glorfindel seems to have taken an interest, hasn't he? He has kept his eyes on her all night;" his remark unintentionally made Legolas uncomfortable and he shifted his gaze in their direction, finding them holding conversation away from others.

* * *

Vez took a swig of the sickly sweet wine as she watched Legolas walk away from her, knowing beyond his look of reassurance was a reminder to behave herself. She begrudgingly followed Glorfindel to a side archway, and once there stated snidely, "Sparse on reading material?"

He tilted his chin up slightly and looked down upon her, being quite a bit taller. He was again surprised by her brazenness, but undeterred and countered her calmly, "I am not going to rebuke you for the incident in the prison, Vezely. But know that Lord Elrond is not the only Elf charged with your well-being," he then explained steadily, "He will leave these shores soon but I will remain, for as you, my task is not yet done."

Displeased with the implication of still being someone's responsibility, she remarked bluntly, "I did not know I was yet a burden to be passed on."

He smiled slightly, perhaps he misstated, "I do not deem you in need of a protector, but it was Lord Elrond's request to aid you if necessary."

Finding him not easily riled made her realize that she was the one being disrespectful, "Apologies. I have spent a fair amount of time defending my actions and," she shifted slightly, "I am not above assistance in matters that now consume my thoughts, and I would find your advice welcomed."

"That is why I desired a conversation. After being informed of the possibility of Morgoth followers in Rhun, and that you tenably ride to war against them, I would like to question you on what you know."

"You desire to speak of enemies and warfare at a celebration?" she asked mildly intrigued, raising one eyebrow.

"Does it offend?" He queried, uncertain.

She laughed, then remarked bluntly, "It comforts. Such are easier topics of conversation for me." She had another sip of wine before telling Glorfindel what she suspected from the information she obtained at the first council meeting; disclosing more on the People of the Dark Lands, their trade in opiates, their desire for empire, most of which she had shared with the realms' leaders the other night at dinner. He then queried their methods of worshipping Morgoth, desiring affirmation of their belief systems.

"...They first drain the leaders of their blood, and mark the others foreheads with it before burning them alive. I never did fancy it; the burning, I mean," she narrowed her eyes as her mind took her back to some of her experiences working alongside them; momentarily forgetting the caliber of her present company, she began speaking too glib on Rhunic psychological warfare strategies, "Not that it isn't an effective method of fear, and granted, those burned suffer greatly even if their suffering is quick, for they asphyxiate on the fumes of their own flesh. And the screaming had shock value, I'll give them that. But they irritatingly called it worship; hymns sung to their vanquished god, reminding me that their purpose was irrational. I never executed on such flighty whims, nor did I worship Sauron with the deaths I dictated. To me, that is barbaric. And their beliefs," she then looked at him curious, noting his strict demeanor for he was holding his tongue on the violence she was accomplice to, "In Rhun, there exists many fables of how the end of time will commence. I am sure the Elves hold closer truths, but the People of the Dark Lands believe Melkor will heed their allegiance and help make them gods of men."

"There is a prophecy that Morgoth," using his Elf-given name and noting that Vezely did not, "Will escape his imprisonment and call upon his greatest servants to join him in avengement, upon which the Last Battle will be fought. They may be assuring their place aside him."

"And to no end," Vez considered annoyed by this affirmation, "Sauron was only Melkor's messenger, so his defeat deters them little, and with Rhun at its weakest, they will only continue their worship while they carry out their long desired expansion."

"And your intentions?" he asked still reserved.

"The resistance is scattered, but I have no doubt the few that remain are setting their minds to Rhun's recovery. And there is enough distrust of the People of the Dark Lands to stall any alliances they may seek to forge, leaving time to reestablish forces to defend the provinces under threat. It is more of a matter of cooperation."

"This much is certain. To ensure peace and stability for this new age, they cannot be allowed to extend their empire, nor can Rhun fall into destruction," he stated with conviction, "Balance is desirable, utter destruction of their culture is not."

"Balance?" Vez scoffed with a small laugh, "It would be easier to set mind to their removal."

"You are to keep peace in Rhun, not to lead assaults," he told her firmly, hoping to reiterate the desire of those higher up.

She tilted her head to the side and narrowed her eyes momentarily considering this, before acquiescing, "Alright...If stability is the desired end."

Glorfindel took a moment to gauge that she understood this, then speaking as an apology, "It seems I have kept you too long from those desiring to be at your side," his eyes found Legolas in the crowd conversing with Lord Elrond's twin sons, noting his brief gaze on them a moment earlier. He then spoke in praise, "Legolas is an honorable Elf. One who has rightfully gained the respect of Middle Earth and he will be honored in Valinor once he sails."

Vez also looked upon Legolas, and betraying her desire to hide softer emotions, concern seeped through her gaze. _And that I would not hinder him_ , she thought in introspective dejection. She returned her eyes to Glorfindel, noting he was now watching her carefully. She shifted uncomfortably and took in an imperceptible deep breath, regaining her composure, "As he should be," she agreed with a curt nod; and hoping to change the subject and leave, "If there is anything else that you need to know before I depart, ask. And gratitude for your advice and your future assistance, _if_ it is deemed necessary."

Glorfindel tilted his head down politely, and Vez mirrored him before taking her leave. The Elf Lord would stroll to the side of Lord Elrond while his eyes watched as she greeted Legolas, noting he wore a concerned smile upon her approach and that she quickly took his hand and held it tightly. Elrond was noticeably curious having prompted the conversation, so Glorfindel offered his thoughts carefully, "She is estranged by culture, as you said. And perhaps her light would go unnoticed if not for those who hold her as honorable company. Yet when removed from that company, would she not falter into ways deemed detrimental to what she seeks?"

Elrond furled his brow, disagreeing slightly, "She is incredibly guarded, especially when it comes to her hopes and fears. I believe for her, they are novel emotions and not easily reconciled with her public character. But they are what drive her. I do not believe they will be easily placed aside."

Glorfindel narrowed his eyes, needing more time to consider this, "Worry not to my thoughts my lord, for I will honor your request and watch after her when you depart..."

* * *

The party ended rather uneventful for Vez, or at least it was as she hoped after forcing herself to remain more reserved beside Legolas for the rest of it. She did not know if this made things more uncomfortable for those they were conversing with, or relieved, but for her it was the latter.

Since the new guests were also staying in their wing, Elrohir and Elladan accompanied Vez and Legolas back over, creating an awkward moment when the couple tried to silently communicate who would sneak over into the other's room later on. Vez suggested with a flick of her eyes at her door that he should, considering his footfalls were quieter than her own. Once inside her room, she got comfortable by changing into her blue silk robe and opening the book Legolas had brought over the other night, "First Age Poems of Love and Lament," which he said his father had packed for him. Meandering through Elvish text was yet new to her, for she found she had an easier time making the casual speech of the language than with writing and reading its formal script. It wasn't long before she found the task burdensome, though it was more due to her impatience in desiring his company. Placing the book back on the table next to her, she gazed upon the white flowers in the small glass yet sitting there, taking one from the bouquet and tucking it right above her ear; smiling mischievously to herself thinking of amusing Legolas with its presence; for he did desire to see her with flowers in her hair.

Legolas would also change into his lounging robes and bide some time organizing his space; hanging his formal coronation robe outside his wardrobe in preparation for tomorrow morning. It was hard for him to fathom their time together in Minas Tirith would soon end; it felt too brief though it was eventful. Thinking enough time had passed, he quietly opened his door and stepped out, prepared to walk lightly across the hallway and open the unlocked door.

"Legolas," Glorfindel had been at the end of the hall, finding the Elf stepping into it, "Accompany for a short walk," he requested, coming towards him.

Legolas of course did not deny the offer and quickly found himself embarrassed by the praise Glorfindel first spoke of his deeds with the Fellowship; having conversed with the Elven Lord before he set out from Imladris. He was also commended on his set task to rebuild Ithilien's forests. Yet when the conversation turned to when he would sail to the Utter West, Legolas's responses grew more guarded.

"You will like Valinor, for its beauty surpasses any lands in Middle Earth," Glorfindel told him, thinking of his own desires to return when his task was done, "All is hallowed there, so it is naught of corruption or sickness, and the trees are to be praised rather than tended..."

Hearing Glorfindel's eyewitness description of Valinor again ignited in his heart his desire to sail, though the anchor to say in Middle Earth was also strong; for not only would he abandon his friends of the Fellowship yet, he would not leave until Vezely was also permitted to accompany him.

"You will stay until the bonds you swore at Imladris have ended?" Glorfindel asked him curiously.

"And until my partner returns and can sail with me," he told him, uncomfortably realizing again that the sorrow of losing his mortals friends would be met with the happiness of starting life anew with another.

"And if she is not permitted or returns not from her task?" Glorfindel stated what many of the Eldar thought but would not ask forthrightly, for fear of being unkind.

"Do you have knowledge to base this on?" Legolas asked carefully, wondering if the Elf Lord was speaking from foresight.

"Nothing has been revealed," he replied truthfully.

"Then I will not fall to such worries," he replied undeterred, "I hold onto hope, even if it is hers as well. I know doubt runs through her mind, even if she dare not speak of it to me anymore. But I would not have her leave here believing herself unworthy of redemption," he then added firmly, "Nor anyone else."

Glorfindel took a deep breath, gauging he had driven a need for him to defend her, he then cupped his shoulder, saying encouragingly, "She is well spoken for and I would not disbelieve the words I have heard. But you have well-earned the bliss abroad, and deserve happiness..." He then told Legolas of Elrond's desire for him to watch over Vezely in his absence; hoping to reassure him that he would do whatever he could to ensure her path back to him; having further realized his happiness, Valinor or not, depended on it.

* * *

Legolas turned the doorknob slowly, hoping not to alert any others in the wing of his entrance into her room. He found the space darkened; a candle on the center table had just expired and was exuding smoke from its wick. Vezely was curled up on the chair next to it, her feet tucked under her, her head resting on the side cushion, and a small flower tucked above her one ear. He gently gathered her in his arms, intent on relocating her to her bed.

Stirred awake, Vez instantly knew it was him and she smiled as he lifted her, saying nothing, nor opening her eyes as he brought her to the soft mattress. And when he placed her down she scooted over for him to lie beside her.

After lying down on his side facing her, resting his head on the same pillow as her, he whispered, "Forgive me for my lateness, I was delayed."

"It matters not," she whispered back, "For you are here now."

He brought a hand to her cheek, his fingers then finding the small flower just above, making him ask with a curious smile, knowing she was up to something, "What is this?"

"A flower," she replied straight faced, trying to imply that he was asking something strange. This garnered a look of suspicion, so she feigned further confusion, "Do you not like flowers in my hair?"

Legolas smiled at her, and played along, "I do. But this is only one and I desire to see many."

"Many? How many my lord?" she replied, trying hard not to laugh through her smirk. They had inched closer to each other so that their foreheads touched.

"At the very least, two bouquets worth, my lady," he told her with all importance, touching his nose to hers and knowing smugly he was better at playing this game.

"Oh, I suppose I should first have more hair to put them in," she seemed to consider seriously, "Otherwise, it would appear my head is not but flowers."

Despite believing he would not crack, Legolas laughed first and she joined him, their grins slowly dissipating in order to snuggle closer in contentment.


	44. The Coronation

**Year:** T.A. 2942 (77 years prior)

 **Location:** the deserts of Rhun

 _Death is easier_ , she thought darkly, parting her cracked lips to breathe in more deeply the dry air as she swiped the palms of her hands over the hot sand; caring not for the discomfort of a few jagged rocks cutting into her backside as she lay underneath the sun's burning rays. Days without food and water, she collapsed on route to nowhere; desiring the solitude and silence of Rhun's largest desert to reorder her thoughts as the memories of her life, repressed during her time imprisoned in Dol Guldur, found their way back to her mind. The promise of the Dark Lord and her position as the general of the Easterling legions to lead the destruction of the people of the West, were never to be realized. Indeed, she had fallen. Betrayed by her second in command, beaten, raped, imprisoned, and forgotten by the one she swore allegiance to.

"Leave if you must," the Blue Wizard Romestano told her before setting out, "Sort out your mind. But remember, you are being offered a second chance; a means to rectify your wrongs. You are an Elf, condemn yourself not to an eternity in bonds for you will find the Halls of Mandos no less pleasant than the prisons of Dol Guldur..."

The heat suddenly felt like a weight on her chest, making it hard to breathe. She turned her head to the West and her sight could discern clearly the waves radiating off the hot sands making her feel like she was hallucinating. _A second chance_ , the concept felt absurd coming from the mouths of her former enemies. Yet if it was being offered by Sauron, to rejoin his cause, would she accept it? The thought ran through her mind but was quickly answered with anger at his betrayal; for stripping her of power and position. _Revenge_. She could seek it with this second chance. _Revenge._ It was what she desired. She closed her eyes, for their dryness began to sting and her breathing faltered; the pounding in her head grew stronger and she desired to press her hands to her forehead but they felt stuck on the sands beside her. _It is too late_ , she thought with a newly found regret as death seemed imminent.

Opening her eyes again, she saw in the distance a vision; an oasis not there before, and along with it strength returned to her body. She knew not if she was being deceived, but the lure was strong and she moved to her feet, dragging them westward towards what appeared as a pond set amidst the desert sands. She fell at its edge, believing it would disappear as soon as her hand fell into its crystal depths. But it did not and its waters were cool and clean and they soothed her throat and filled her stomach, giving her life again. _Condemned to live_ , she thought uncomfortably after having her fill, gazing down into the reflective pool beneath her. The ripples settled and her reflection stared back at her. She unwound her headscarf and untied her yet damaged and uneven hair. It was only starting to grow back in the places where she had gone bald due to malnutrition during her captivity. Since her release she had not cared for it or herself; living as one already deprived of life. She then took her dagger from her belt and taking it strand by strand, she sliced it off near the roots. Running her fingers over her scalp, she felt as if one reminder of her captivity was gone; though the scars on her wrists, honed into her skin by her iron cuffs, remained. She would fill her flask with water and return the way she came; to the outskirts of that desert where the Blue Wizards held their residence.

"The prodigal Elf returns," Romestano mused when he saw the worn and weary traveler on his front step, "And with a new look," noting her hair, or lack thereof.

"And a new purpose," she replied assuredly with narrowed eyes, feeling indifferent to their desired cause for her to aid in their resistance. Instead, her own burned secretly within her. _Revenge_.

* * *

Vezely had never told anyone this story of what prompted her return from Rhun's deserts, or that she would not have returned. At least not until now, when explaining to Legolas the truth behind why she no longer wore her hair shoulder length, as was more common for Easterling women.

It was not yet dawn and her head was resting on his chest as he stroked back her short hair, listening troubled to the details of her closeness to death, and perplexed by the fruits of the vision she saw that lifted her back to life.

"Did you not take it as a sign?" he asked carefully.

She lifted her chin and looked up at him confused, "A sign?" she attempted to hold in her laugh, "I do not think like that," though at that moment Vezely revisited Lady Galadriel's warning: _Do not forsake them, for they have not forsaken you._

Legolas knew Vezely held sparse and undoubtedly twisted knowledge of the Valar, but he could not help but suspect that in that moment one, most likely Ulmo, the lord of the waters, who often meddled in the affairs of Elves, may have helped her on this path. But he did not want to spark her ill refute, and instead acknowledged, "Regardless, I am grateful you returned."

"As am I," she grinned, propping herself up on an elbow beside him, "And at least I am no longer bald." He then ran his fingers through her hair again, glad to see her exuding cheer despite the gravity of the experience she described.

"It would not matter if you were," he told her endearingly, observing her brightness, "I would look upon you the same."

Part of her desired to slide past this statement by teasing him; feigning that she should cut her hair shorter just to see what reaction it elicited. It was a strange impulse and perhaps, she thought, it was because she always felt incapable of responding appropriately to statements of kindness that touched her deeply. With her eyes and fingers tracing the contours of his robe's bronze leaf-shaped clasp, she started meekly, "Sometimes I cannot believe..." she paused and began blinking, for suddenly some moisture found its way to her eyes; her hesitancy caused his gaze to turn into one of concern, and he lifted her chin up and prompted her now dry eyes to his. With a timid smile, she continued, "I cannot believe you can love me so." He shook his head and was about to condemn her disbelief, but she spoke before he could, "When we first met, I had long been on a path of destruction. Feeling condemned to what I saw as a wretched existence. There was nothing beyond the revenge I sought. I didn't need a second chance, a possibility at redemption, for I saw nothing worth being redeemed for. Then meeting you..." she smirked slightly thinking nostalgically, "Somehow, and I don't know how, you undermined my path. You made me question it and myself; question who I could be, regardless of my past. And though I faltered in believing it possible, you always reassured me and gave me hope for that future. That you have also given me your love, it seems impossible."

"It should not," he began to explain softly, engaging her with his eyes, "I was only fortunate that you chose to open up to me and share that side that you often hide to others," she diverted her eyes becoming embarrassed, but he guided her face back to his and then trailed his fingers to her heart, "Once I saw that your heart was truly good, it was easy to fall in love with you."

They exchanged a warm smile, and Vez considered, "Still, you are truly rare," smiling slightly, "To have fallen in love with one so estranged to your culture."

"Perhaps," he told her, unabashedly trailing his fingers to her silk robe's collar and slipping it off her shoulder, revealing her bare skin and a few of the inked characters set on it. She closed her eyes and parted her lips as he traced the lines of them. "But I happen to like your uncouthness," he added, enjoying the pleasure his touch was giving her.

She grinned in remembrance of him calling her so before, but soon found his lips upon hers and his arms pulling her on top of him. Momentarily parting her mouth from his, she told him amused, "And here I use to think you were always proper." But he did not reply with words and instead kissed her again more passionately, each hoping that dawn did not arrive too soon.

* * *

For the sake of Western modesty, she threw her tunic coat over her silk robe and draped her formal gown over her arm before heading to the baths to freshen up for the coronation. She had no task or specified place of eminence at the event, so she was not in a hurry to dress or meet with the others who would be going over their places and paces. Legolas desired she meet him at the very least five minutes prior the time the Elves were set to depart the gathering hall for the upper level, which was set aside for them to assemble and wait comfortably in.

After washing, she decided to pin her fringe back off her forehead, twisting it around the sides as to give the appearance that the rest of her hair would have been in a low bun at the back, though in reality the back was where it was the shortest. The day was already warm and the dress's delicate material luckily felt fluid and light against her skin, and she noted while looking herself over in a full length mirror that she showed quite a bit more skin than usual. Without a scarf, which she rarely went without, and with the v-neck and even deeper v-cut in the back, it lengthened her neck and she thought she appeared taller. The dark plum color accented her pale skin tone, dark hair color, and bluish-green eyes, and she shook her head mildly peeved that Legolas had picked it out saying forthrightly it would do so.

She spent a moment running her fingers over her wrists, which the gown's three-quarter length sleeves freely displayed; catching her in remembrance of the scars they once bore. Their disappearance and her returned ear tip caused a small smile of gratitude to grace her face. She had not thought about either in some time, nor how her physical change coincided with everything else that had changed since coming West.

She had not realized the time had run close until back inside her room, causing her to throw her lounge robe and tunic coat on her bed hastily, slip on her flats, and race out of the door; finding the gown's length unnecessarily cumbersome for any overly hurried movement. She lifted the front up as she sped down the wing's main corridor; her hurriedness making her forget until she neared the meeting halls entrance the peculiarity of her being dressed as a lady, even if her raiment was of Rhunish origins. Strangely, she had felt less awkward posing as an Umbarian Dancing Girl in a scantily clad getup and performing riskily for a Corsair pirate than now looking the part of proper Elf maiden set to take the arm of an Elven prince.

She slipped in the big doors and felt visually assaulted by the beauty of the beings that graced the room. All the Elves wore long, rich gowns of off-whites, light silvers, periwinkle blues, and champagne golds; and their pale, flawless skin glowed with the light catching brocade on their gown's fabrics. Their shining, straight hair was loose and flowing; most had it partially pulled back and delicately braided. And a few, which later Vezely realized were those of higher eminence, wore silver or gold circlets upon their brows.

Before entering the doorway, she fixed her posture, lifted her chin slightly and pushed her shoulders back. She noted, desiring from that point not to focus on anything in particular, how the gown's long skirt swayed with her hips as she walked. As several Elves glanced at her as she passed, she became annoyed by her growing discomfort. She should be used to appearing as a black sheep among them by now, she thought. For the crowd, however, it was not hard to miss the darkest color gown among them and that it was being worn by one notorious Elf stirred their conversation. Thalion noted her presence first, and turned around his friend by a sharp tug of the arm.

And once Legolas's eyes fell upon her, he perceived again what many others in the room pondered for the first time; Vezely was indeed of the line of Luthien, for there was some beauty mingled with her strangeness. But while one such as Arwen walked softly and with a womanly grace, Vezely yet stepped with strength. She held the poise not of a High Elf maiden, but of a proud warrior which the dress could not hide.

She was relieved finding Legolas in the crowd; giving her a direction to go towards in the mass of glimmering forms. But as she observed his raiment, she almost halted her steps in awe and knew her lips gaped slightly. She had never seen him looking so regal or prince-like before. A simple silver circlet sat upon his brow, complementing rather than competing with the richness of his outer robe which was the palest of blues; its high collar further embellished by a silver butterfly necklace hung below it. His father stood aside him, clad in shining silver hues, and turning to see the direction of his son's gaze, he needed a double take. None had seen Vezely adorned in anything other than loose pants, long tunics, and neck covering scarves. Yet if anyone's eyes did linger they would note something more unusual than the dark color and exotic origin of her fancy gown, and perhaps a little unsettling. Vezely was unabashedly displaying the tattoos on her back and on her forearms, the likes of which no other Elves had. They were as fresh black ink on clean parchment, standing out against the paleness of her skin.

Within a meter of Legolas and his father, she halted her steps, and after exchanging a brief smile with her betrothed, she curtsied and bowed her head down, "My lords," she uncharacteristically greeted them, though it was not in jest for she was trying to appear proper in front of the leaders of her parent's realm. Thranduil nodded his head slightly in approval, surprised she knew how to properly curtsy, while Legolas stepped forward and took her hand, bringing the back to his lips and gracing it with a kiss, "My lady," he replied, noticeably elated to call her so publically, and afterwards offering her an arm to stand by his side. He whispered in her ear before walking back towards his father, saying smugly, "I was right about the color." She smirked, having predicted he'd find a moment to tell her that, but she had to forgo a reply, now being too close to Thranduil and the other ambassadors for her words to go unheard.

"I thought I would be too late to see you all off," she told him slightly relieved. She assumed she would not be attending by his side or alongside the other Elves for that matter, seeing as how Legolas held a position of honor to be the one to greet Aragorn on behalf of all Elvendom after he was crowned. However, it was never Aragorn's intention for Vez to lack a place of respect at the coronation. He thought she should stand alongside the other Elvish ambassadors and asked Legolas to verify if this was deemed alright with his kin.

"Actually..." Legolas stalled, noticeably uncertain how to tell her the arrangement he made just prior.

"You will attend aside me," Thranduil interrupted his son, as he stood on the other side of them and was listening.

Vez was shocked by the offer, and her eyes glanced back to Legolas before returning to the king hastily, "You do not need to allot me that honor."

Hoping to bypass his father's possible retort and explain further, Legolas interrupted, "Lord Aragorn desired to give you a place in the coronation and wondered if you would stand alongside us. Father suggested a place next to him in the front row." Vez's eye widened in disbelief.

"Are you not my son's betrothed?"Thranduil asked sternly, narrowing his eyes on her; he would be annoyed if she did not deem this an honor. He then added, his eyes observing her gown, "And Legolas assured me you would dress appropriately and you are...to a certain extent."

Vez held her laugh behind her smirk. Legolas then complimented her after giving his father a chiding look for the remark, "You look stunning."

Vez shook her head and smiled, "The dress is stunning. I pale in comparison to the fair folk of this room;" then she thanked Thranduil with a kind smile, "And I am honored my lord, truly."

He was pleased by her humility and her lightened mood, and bowed his head courteously to her.

* * *

The top level of the White City was filled to the brim with colorful banners and mirthful Gondorians dressed in their finest garments; forming a sea of grey, purple, and violet hues. The ambassadors would slowly parade to their places down the central aisle, the first several meters of which was lined with Gondorian guards fully dressed in overly polished armor, holding tall spears and broad black shields marked by the symbol of the white tree. There was a lot of pomp to the ceremony and rightly so, for such a transition for Gondor and for the people of Middle Earth afforded it. The Elves would stand farthest down the aisle from the central steps upon which Aragorn would be crowned. They would be the last to parade down the causeway to their standing position, which was aside the central fountain.

Legolas would enter first with Lord Elrond and the Lady Arwen, as well as other head ambassadors chosen to later come forward and greet Aragorn along the aisle. Arwen held a banner heralding the white tree of Aragorn's house, while other Elves in the group held banners for the three respective realms. The rest of the Elven kindred would then fill the eastern side of the aisle, with the leaders in the front row.

Vezely would walk aside Thranduil, while in front of them was the Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn, both clad in white gowns dappled with brocades of silver thread. When filing in line, Vezely greeted the lords of Lothlorien with a polite bow of her head. Galadriel smiled upon her pleasant appearance, chiming, "Your youth radiates, making one almost forget our kin's weariness."

Vez was confused as to whether to feel complimented, though it filtered into what she began to understand about the fading of the Elves. Aragorn's crowning spoke further to it; he was ushering in the age of men, and the Elves would continue to leave these shores and fade from its relevance and perhaps even its remembrance. The Long Defeat; the Elves called their never ending fight with Morgoth and his servants. Now with the battle won, even those who long endured, were spent and ready to go across the sea to rejoin their kin or to stay, but to remain isolated from the world. She wondered if Thranduil would also sail West, to follow his son and rejoin his wife; or would he stay and watch over the Woodland clans, many of whom may never heed the call. There were many things she didn't fully know or understand, and regrettably she would not have the chance to before she left.

Behind her stood Lord Glorfindel, clad in a pale champagne robe overlaid with a subtle flower brocade of gold threads; symbolically paying tribute to his house. She engaged his eyes briefly before tilting her head in greeting, "My lord."

The golden-haired Elf was in a joyous mood, as everyone else was for the celebration. He offered her a pleasant smile while tilting his head down, acknowledging curious, "The text upon you speaks of courage and strength," and looking upon her forearms reading the runes on the right, "Of the 'sun's power,'" and turning his eyes to her left wrist, "And of 'the conqueror of nations'?"

"You read Easterling script?" she asked taken back by his unusual ability; for no Elf she had yet met West of Rhovanion could.

"I have studied some in preparation of possibly going East," he told her calmly; for Lord Elrond's library in Imladris was vast enough to hold some books on Rhunic languages, even though they were deemed of little import.

"Impressive, to be so diligent," she remarked raising an eyebrow, also finding it somewhat strange. But for Glorfindel this diligence was not impressive since he took the mission appointed to him by the Valar to be of upmost importance, deeming even precautionary study necessary. "And it is 'destroyer,'" Vez added assuredly before turning back around, holding her arm out and tracing the character's lines, "The rune for 'conqueror' lacks this stroke." She enjoyed getting a chance to correct the Elf Lord, who all thought infallible.

He tilted his chin up slightly, asking undeterred, "And their meaning?"

Vez smirked, "We all earn titles of remembrance, do we not? And the sun is part of my name as well as a symbol of the people who raised me." Below the rune for sun, and closer to her wrist, was an outline of a stylized sun, the same as the one found on the gold ring she wore on her right hand.

"The sun is also a symbol of my house," he informed her intrigued by the connection, "The House of the Golden Flower of Gondolin."

"It is a strong symbol," she praised, "Though I doubt your kindred did more than wear it on their shields and banners," knowing tattoos would never find their way onto Elvish bodies.

"Indeed not, for Elves see such markings as a desecration of the sanctity of our bodies," he informed her lightly; his tone not implying he was making a critique.

"Yes, I have heard quite a lot about Elven purity," she rejoined in similar tone, "And how far outside of it I exist. Yet, I refuse to see my upbringing by the Balchoth as simply one of corruption. For then I would need to look upon all of Rhun's inhabitants as such, which I will not do."

Glorfindel consider her words and re-pondered the implications of his own, though he would not have a chance to respond as they would begin the walk down the corridor

She had seen the Gondorians reaction to seeing Elves before, when she happened upon the first arrival of the Elves of Lothlorien in the lower levels of Minas Tirith. An awestruck silence radiated through the crowd as they slowly stepped down the aisle, and Vezely noticeably had to adjust her way of walking to flow well with the others. She engaged both Eomer and Eowyn along the way with a small nod and pleasant smile, acknowledging proudly her battle companions, and they equally looked upon her as friend rather than foe of their land. She blissfully ignored Faramir; though he stood next to Eowyn, who she held most dear.

During the ceremony she felt surreal standing between Thranduil and Glorfindel, great lords of Elves. She also watched in disbelief as Aragorn was crowned, for knowing how uncertain this reality was not yet a month ago. And she felt immense pride, perhaps as much as Thranduil next to her, as Legolas greeted the king on behalf of their fading race; clasping his shoulder in a sign of strong friendship. Legolas then exchanged a knowing look, turning Aragorn's gaze behind him to where Lord Elrond stood. Upon the Elf Lord's wise face was a mixture of sadness and joy as Arwen stepped forward with the banner yet shielding her from view. During this time, Legolas would return to the side of his father and thus to Vezely, taking her hand in his own as he joyfully watched his friend's heart swell anew with the return of Arwen to his arms. He would then squeeze Vezely's hand a little tighter, for in his mind the scene made him wistful about how they might also embrace when she returned to him from Rhun.

At last, in the respect allotted for them, all of Minas Tirith bowed before the four hobbits; knowing that without them there would be no celebration.

* * *

The day-long party started soon after. From the top steeple to the lowest level, all of Minas Tirith was celebrating. Great feasts had been prepared; mead ran freely, music played loudly, songs sung merrily, and dancing started spontaneously among the crowd. The ambassadors would celebrate together in the great hall, alongside the king, his lady, and their large court. It was the most joyous Vezely had ever seen a group of people in her life, and she found herself mirthful simply by feeding off others energy.

The day offered her an opportunity to speak perhaps for the last time with all she had met during her stay in the West: Eowyn and Eomer, the hobbits, Gimli, Gandalf... It has been some time since the old wizard spoke with her.

"...I do not have any doubt that we will meet again young Elf," he told her endearingly, after Vezely wished him a pleasant voyage away from these lands. "And then you will be required to tell me all about your adventure..."

Gandalf had made her future task in Rhun sound like a marvelous journey. Of course he would be one to call any perils or hardships one must travel through an adventure, she thought, foregoing a specific response.

After a gracious meal, merry music started and many from Aragorn's court and several ambassadors began dancing to the tunes.

At one point, Legolas asked Vez uncertain, "If I were to ask you to dance, what would be your reply?"

Vez smirked, knowing his hesitancy for she did not appear the dancing type. Wanting to gauge his keenness, she asked slyly, "Do you desire to dance with me?"

"It has crossed my mind," he told her truthfully, a pleasant smile stretched across his face while observing her demeanor.

Vez's eyes shifted past him to those dancing before her, as she wondered her stance on this. The thought of it made her uncomfortable; for it would seem an unlikely act for someone who preferred to appear impassive to the events surrounding her.

"Perhaps you do not know how to dance," Legolas added smugly raising an eyebrow; attempting to goad her into either accepting or admitting her incompetence. He hoped by narrowing her options, he'd prod her into making the choice in his favor.

"I can dance just fine," Vez defended herself hastily; for even if she hardly remembered the last time she did, it was not a skill she deemed too difficult to mimic.

Legolas predicted this reflex, and held his hand out with a wide grin, "Well then."

She narrowed her eyes, giving him the look of death before accepting his hand and being pulled onto the dance floor, after which she would find herself stepping along and her dress swaying with the others as she was turned about by Legolas. At several intervals she would let out a laugh, amused by the absurdity of her odd willingness to move as such. The next song's tune slowed down and prodded the dancers into couplings. Legolas placed his hands on her hips and she held hers on his shoulders before being brought closer and clasping them around his neck. They grinned at each other and Vez laughed again, shaking her head slightly as she did. To Legolas, she had not appeared this mirthful and carefree since their second time in Ithilien, when she dove scantily clad into the lake and goaded him to follow her. He now considered himself even for taking her out of her comfort zone, as she did to him during that moment. They then touched the sides of their faces together, saying nothing as they swayed to the music...


	45. Departing the West

"I suppose I have no use for this gown anymore." Vezely's voice held a hint of melancholy as she held the delicate plum garment in front of her. Legolas stood nearby, watching quietly as she packed her few belongings, not desiring to leave her side until he had to.

He gently took the long gown from her hands, "I will hold onto it for you," he told her while managing a small smile, "And you will wear it again," he added, bringing it closer to himself. She returned a grateful smile, needing then more than ever his optimism for their future life together.

With her rucksack packed, her boots on, her sai tucked into their holsters, and her black scarf hanging loosely around her neck, she sat down on the desk chair and looking into a small, handheld mirror, lined her eyes with a pieceof charcoal. Legolas watched curiously, for he had not seen her do this before, nor had she lined her eyes in some time. He reminisced when he first saw her standing on the edge of Fangorn Forest; the wind billowing the tails of her worn navy coat, her black scarf hiding her hair, and the blue-green of her eyes glaring at him through black lined lids; she appeared more foreign than ever then and far afield from how she appeared the day before, wearing the long gown he now held in his hands.

After finishing, she looked the room once over and her eyes fell upon the cup which yet held the gifted bouquet of white flowers, the ones Shelbi had given her and Glorfindel had revived by some unknown Elf magic. She walked over to it and plucked one from the bunch, slipping it into her rucksack; allowing it to rest between the folds of one map. Afterwards she declared with unhidden regret, "I suppose I am ready now."

They walked to the stables close to each other's side, but they kept silent; afraid to speak and stir their emotions too soon. Once there, Vezely bridled Léofara, the kingly black horse that Eomer gifted her, as Legolas chanted in lyrical Elvish verses; telling the young mare to watch after his beloved, to carry her softly and smoothly, and to swiftly carry her back home when her task was done.

Vez said nothing as she listened enchanted by the soothing tone of his voice when using their native tongue; knowing she had loved the sound of it ever since he first spoke to her using it. His ending request to Léofara pained her heart slightly, for she was ultimately uncertain if she were to return before the life of this young horse was spent.

They would then ride to the second level prisons where Faramir would release the prisoners and she would escort them from the White City. Vezely did not desire an entourage or farewell party to stand and bid her off. Instead, she had used the previous day's celebration to say her personal well wishes, gratitudes, and her goodbyes, though not explicitly saying the word to anyone. Thus, the last thing she expected when approaching the prison gates was her companions awaiting their arrival.

There were the four hobbits, Gimli and Gandalf, Eomer and Eowyn, King Thranduil, Lord Elrond with Lord Glorfindel by his side, the twins Elrohir and Elladan, and King Aragorn and Lady Arwen standing with pleasant smiles on their faces as she road closer; her eyes in disbelief. Legolas wore a keen smile, having arranged the whole affair whether she deemed it preferable or not.

"You did not think we would allow you to leave without a proper sendoff," Gandalf announced slightly gruff, noting the slowed trot of her horse, and her hesitation.

She had not been able to look any of them in the eye after dismounting, feeling both touched, embarrassed, and pained by their presence. And when finally meeting their gaze, she explained sincerely, "I did not want to create a fuss over my departure."

"You created a fuss when you arrived lass, don't think we'd let you off without one," Gimli remarked assuredly, lifting his heels up slightly as he said it.

"Fair enough," she tilted her head down in respect to the Dwarf, forcing herself to smile, though the task before her would be difficult.

The hobbits were the first to come forward. "It was sure fine to meet you, Miss Vez," Sam began, offering her his small hand, being the most forward and polite of the group, "Second breakfast in the city shan't be same without you."

"I consider myself most fortunate, Master Gamgee," she replied warmly, "For having never met a hobbit before, that I should have met four of the finest." The statement caused Sam to blush slightly.

"Vez, you are always welcome in the Shire," Frodo then told her graciously, "If you ever pass that way, please do not be a stranger."

Pippin added cheerily, "And there will be a mug of ale waiting for you at the Green Dragon, and some good pipeweed, if you'd smoke it."

"I will keep my map open," she cupped Pippin's shoulder as she did with the others.

Merry was the last to speak; he had a pensive look on his face as he handed her a large red apple, "Something for the road," he told her with a serious voice, knowing it was often what she ate at second breakfasts with them. "Hopefully you can stave off eating bugs for little awhile," he added cheekily, for they still joked about food oddities together; all stemming from that one conversation that started in Edoras.

Vez blurted a laughed, "That would be preferable," she told him with a nod and offering Merry her hand, he took it and gave a sturdy shake. "Take care, my fellow warrior," she told him warmly but with a firm resolve; she would miss the brave hobbit who she had shared many laughs and tense times with.

Gimli then told her, "At least you are looking less grim than when we first met. Makes me feel a little better about sending you off."

Vez smirked, before replying, "So are you," then eyeing him over, "And a bit rounder around the midsection," for Gimli had been enjoying the abundance of food in the city, which they certainly had a lack of on the road.

"Ooh ho, that I am," he laughed a good hearty laugh while patting his belly, for he knew it was true. "Take care of yourself lass. I mean it," he sounded stern as if he was lecturing her as would a father, "For I want to see your bright face again."

"You too, Master Dwarf," then flicking her eyes to the one side where Legolas stood aside his father, she added quietly concerned, "And make sure he is happy for me."

Gimli nodded his head and frowned slightly, "Will do lass, will do."

"Speed to you, young Elf," Gandalf told her with a fleeting smile, for the phrase garnered him a strange look as Vez experienced an odd moment of déjà vu.

"It is strange," she explained to the wizard her confusion, "I was fare welled the same by Romestamo before my departure from Rhun."

Gandalf chuckled unsurprised, for he now remembered Romestamo was quite similar in character as he, "And some good it did you to, I think," remarking assuredly, seeing in her the change the Blue Wizards long desired and exactly what the White Council had hoped.

Nodding to agree, Vez offered him her hand which he took between his two well worn ones, "Thank you for your guidance, Mithrandir," she told him in Elvish; realizing she had come to terms with being called an Elf, which so often displeased her before. Gandalf nodded contently before letting go.

She then approached Elrond. The Lord of Imladris appeared slightly harsh in the face, his hands clasped behind his back, but his eyes were kind as ever. Next to him his tall sons smiled warmly upon her. "My lord," Vez hailed him respectfully. Yet the strain in her eyes displayed some hesitancy in forming words, so she ended up speaking her thoughts, "No gift or expression of gratitude can amount to the debt I owe for all that you have done on my behalf."

His lips curled up into a small smile, lightening his demeanor to match his eyes, "That you have taken this path is all the gratitude necessary."

"Thank you, from the very depths of my being," she then bowed her head down and pressed her first to her chest. When looking back up at him, she felt compelled to request something small, but which she considered of great importance though sorrowful in its realization. "Please tell my parents, memories from my childhood are some of the warmest I now hold."

He curtly nodded, observing the sadness in her eyes which was quickly blinked away. Elrohir and Elladan then bid her a safe journey and she spoke of her regret in not getting to speak to them more before her departure.

Glorfindel, who desired to provide her one last bit of council before she left, looked upon her less stern than he had previously contended to; these warm displays of friendship between her and these noble hearts continued to lighten his doubts on her convictions.

Vezely held great respect for Glorfindel, the warrior. Yet as her supposed new protector, and not completely understanding why this position was requested of him by Lord Elrond in the first place, she maintained suspicion; not only of his mission set on by the elusive Valar, but what place she may have in it. If she were to meet him again in the Eastlands, she foresaw some differences of opinion being inevitable.

The tall, golden-haired Elf looked down on her, his eyes gleaming, for the splendor of Valinor shone in them, yet she was not deterred to look at them as before. He spoke carefully, "We shall meet again on this earth, child of Eluréd. If you find yourself in need near territories you would not before enter, there you would find aid and comfort."

She knew he spoke as if he had prophesized her future and he could perceive in her return gaze she was again skeptical of his tidings; but she would not dare to question him now, and nodded, tilting her head down and placing her fist to her chest, "Lord, I will hold this to memory, as well as the rest of your council. Gratitude."

When Vez stood before Eomer and Aragorn, she offered a greeting one would to a leader, clinking her heels together and bowing with a fist to her chest in a stiff motion. "Kings of the Men of the West," she hailed them, "I leave with a promise to both of you. With whatever strength I can muster, I will keep the Eastward borders of Rohan and Gondor free from those who would do harm to your lands."

They could feel the strength of her charge and all knew she would commit herself to this and much more. Eomer stepped forward and offered her his hand to which she gripped it by the forearm, "We had a rough start, you and I," he stated considering, his face stern.

"We did," Vez agreed, a small smirk forming in remembrance of their distrust.

"But gladly no longer so. If aid is ever needed, Rohan will answer," he told her sincerely.

Aragorn also provided her his hand, "As will Gondor. You are forever a friend within these borders and beyond them. Take care of yourself, Vez."

Arwen then smiled upon her, gently taking both her hands in hers and saying softly, "Your heart will be your guide, listen to it when you are lost or in need of comfort."

She was slightly bewildered by the upfront remark, finding both her voice as beautiful as she appeared before her. Vez could only smile and show her appreciation, yet it was enough for them to communicate; for such grief of severance and of unknown reunion Arwen too had experienced when Aragorn set out from Rivendell.

Eowen was noticeably upset to say farewell, and hugged Vezely before saying any words, even if Vez was an unlikely one to embrace, even as a friend. "I will miss you dearly," she told her slightly flustered.

"As I will you, my dear friend," she held onto her arms after they parted, her eyes mirroring her sadness, but saying with hope, "Be happy in all that you do."

"I want to say the same to you," she replied back regretful.

"That day will come," Vez replied meekly but with a small smile, and she squeezed her hands before letting go, having to take a deep breath to resettle her emotions before standing in front of her future father-in-law. Thranduil stared pensive as he looked at her. Out of all she had met, the Elvenking had the most imposing stare, ice cold and condescending. Vez then bowed her head respectfully, "Gratitude my king, for your pardon of my past deeds in your realm, and for your acceptance of my betrothal to your son."

He narrowed his eyes, knowing quite well that his parting words would be measured by all those in attendance, especially his son. There was only one thing he desired to tell her and thus he spoke steadily, "I hold you to your promise," informing her of the bargain he made upon their first conversation together; that she would not die out East and leave his son to despair.

"And I to yours," she rejoined firmly; having made him promise to make Legolas sail West if she did not return; to not let him linger in grief when the shores of Valinor could uplift him.

Thranduil shifted uncomfortably. He knew Vezely was a pragmatist as he was, while his son preferred to hold onto even the tiniest bit of optimism, much like his mother. He curtly nodded, and while watching her form a grateful smile, he realized he indeed held hope she would return. She was strange and uncouth, and he still did not know what attracted his son to her, but he had brought him the rarest and most treasured form of happiness and for that, he had softened to her considerably. Perhaps one day, he thought, he would look upon her as a daughter without any discomfort.

She had never felt more vulnerable than at that moment when approaching Legolas; who stood last in the line to say farewell to her. She was afraid to look him in the eyes which she knew held the same sorrow as hers. Her sight darted the ground before her and she took in slow but deep breaths, preparing herself for the moment she had feared since falling in love with him.

The evening before they promised each other no tears; telling themselves they would not succumb to forgetting about the joy their future reunion would bring them. They had left the coronation party early and found an empty terrace to gaze upon the stars while embracing each other as they did the first night they accepted their feelings. There, Vezely requested Legolas to tell her again the story about the awakening of the Elves; how the first sight their eyes beheld were the stars above. A small part of her wanted to relive their first conversation on the way to Helm's Deep, which had stirred her desires to belong. She remembered how soothing the sound of his voice was, and the comfort she felt with being around another of her race, who understood what the race of men could not. She closed her eyes as he spoke the tale's lyrical prose, and he kissed her forehead when he had finished. "I will tell you more stories when you return" he had told her, keeping their conversation focused on the far future, "There is much you still have not heard..."

Legolas took her right hand with his own and their silver betrothal rings caught the morning's light; each knew the rings would stand as a material link during their separation; they both vowed to never remove them when they were apart. He then pressed her palm upon his chest, as he often did when desiring to tell her something important even if words would not be formed this time. He watched with concern as she lifted her eyes to his; those eyes which at first confounded him, and now stirred his heart to joy.

The discomfort of showing their intimacy in front of those there dissipated in their embrace. They kissed softly, but it was a short bittersweet kiss. Their eyes remained closed and their noses lingered close together; each desired to kiss again but they knew it would only become a never ending cycle. And when they opened their eyes, they saw again that they held the same sorrow.

"Hurry back," he told her in a whisper; afterwards bringing the back of her hand from his chest to his lips for a soft kiss.

She smiled for he had not said goodbye, and it sounded so simple a request. She touched the side of his face lightly, trailing her fingers down his cheek, desiring to remember his eyes looking into hers on those many nights when she would be without him. She took a deep breath before replying quietly but steadily, "As soon as possible," her gaze tried to confirm the determination of her voice. Though she knew nothing could mask the ache she felt when removing herself from his embrace.

At this time there came a large clang from the front gate, as it opened and out stepped the translator Derufin by the side of Faramir, leading out the thirty-two prisoners. Thanks to the generosity of the new king, each had been given a pack of provisions, among which were rations of food, a canteen of water, and extra clothes. It should be enough to sustain them until they reached the southern borders of Gondor and crossed into Rhun. A horse was also provided for the Captain to ride. It was more than Vezely could have hoped, yet also necessary. If she were to get these warriors back to their own land without any rebellions that could lead to the destruction of Gondor's lands or people, it was preferable to have them well supplied.

Legolas and Vezely exchanged one more look of encouragement before she turned to face her men, whose lives she was now responsible for. The general in her knew this responsibility well. She tilted her chin up and placed her hands behind her back, pushing aside her torn emotions as Faramir came beside her.

"They are all yours," he told her; the Steward was grateful for it too, and that Vezely would be far away from Gondor's borders for some time. She had caused him way too much trouble in her short time there.

"Gratitude, Steward," she replied impassively, her eyes yet on her men who had halted their march. She stepped forward, and commanded in Easterling that they face her, to which they obliged in perfect unison. She then turned and stood as one of them.

Aragorn stepped forth, desiring to break words before their departure, and Derufin translated as he did this. "Warriors of Khand and Harad, today you step from the bonds that bound you. And while your wounds are heeled, undoubtedly your hearts are heavy. But go forth to your lands with the knowledge that the West does not desire to look upon you as enemies. We want peace for you and your people. Bring my message to your leaders, and let them know that Gondor is willing to hold council with your emissaries."

Vezely was grateful for Aragorn leaving them with hope for renewed diplomacy; it would be important for Khand and Harad to send their own ambassadors to Gondor in order restart trade and keep communication lines open. While Rhun needed the most mending internally, they would also need to mend ties with the West in order to truly be peaceful.

Feeling obliged to reply on behalf of her men, Vez turned to them and held her fist in the air and from it she raised three fingers. In turn each man placed a fist on their chest and bowed their head low, agreeing to what she asked via the symbol she raised. She marched down the line, her eyes stern and her hand yet raised; finding all had lowered their heads.

Derufin then told the king and all those standing nearby, "She is asking for their approval."

"For what?" Aragorn asked curiously, uncertain as he watched Vezely halt in front of him.

She brought the three fingers to her chest as she ritualistically knelt onto the ground; placing her left hand on her left knee and straightening her posture. She spoke clearly in Easterling, " _I speak on behalf of all who stand before you_ ," she then brought the three fingers from her chest and swiped them in one fluid motion close to the ground before her, having them stop in front of her right knee. She spoke firmly again, " _May the light set to shine upon me, find you instead. For in debt I will remain until the end of my days_." She then tilted down low, showing the Western leaders the crown of her head. The men behind her kept their heads tilted down and their fists to their chests as she did this.

Derufin explained the ritual, "Three fingers raised, each one represents a source of light, the sun, the moon, and the stars, and by touching them to the earth below your feet, it is a sign of respect and of utmost humility," he then translated exactly the words she had spoken and added in astonishment, "For a general to do this in front of her men, well, it is not taken lightly." Derufin's expression proved that he was shocked Vezely had completed this custom, for he had taken her as only prideful in her leadership.

Aragorn bowed his head down, as did Faramir, and those behind him tilted theirs as well; many of them knew Vezely spoke even more on behalf of herself.

After a good moment in this lowered position, Vezely rose to her feet with motions just as equally measured and precise. She would then pivot, " _Prepare to leave!_ " she commanded in their tongue, sounding as a general would; to which the Captain added his orders and the men stepped towards the road which would lead them to the city gates.

Vez and the Captain mounted their horses, and she gave him leave to ride ahead. She watched from atop her steady horse, waiting until the end of the line passed by. For the last time, she turned her head to look upon those who would watch her leave; a small, grateful smile graced her lips, and hope gleamed in her eyes. She turned her horse and recited a Balchoth proverb of old, and despite the harsher tones of the Eastward languages, it sounded lyrical to their ears. " _The land stretches on, set your foot on it, make it your home, but do not stray from the warrior's path or forget the home you came from_." She smiled once more, and added in common tongue, "Farewell, my friends. I will not forget."

Then her eyes fell upon Legolas and they locked their gazes for the last time. _We will meet again_ , she thought with painful hope, _in this land or in the far West, we will be together._

And Legolas felt he could hear her thoughts or read them through eyes. _You are not separate from me_ , he responded in thought, _for our love transcends borders and time cannot change it._

She then adjusted her black scarf over her head, cloaking her ears from sight. Placing her fist over her heart one last time, she lowered her head as she turned her horse about. With a deep breath, she nudged Léofara with her heels, encouraging her tofollow in the direction of her men.

The group watched the Easterling-Elf depart, and Aragorn commented amid the silence. "She spoke this verse in Rohan while overlooking its plans, telling me it was about remembering ones home after leaving and making another," for he had remembered their short conversation and the lyrical verse she whispered to its winds, for it sounded strange but wonderful to his ears.

Derufin then input his understanding, "It is a proverb I suspect, though the dialect is no longer spoken," he then translated the verse the best he could.

Considering its meaning, Gandalf declared, "In the case of young Bellethiel of Mirkwood turned Vezely of Rhun, I truly believe evil will have been good to have been."

"Aye," Lord Elrond agreed, "And no longer is she lost to our kin."

Thranduil slowly cupped a hand on his son's shoulder, knowing he needed consoling. Legolas's strained eyes watched Vezely disappear from sight. Already his heart ached for her return...


	46. On the Borders of Khand and Beyond

The march of the freed prisoners was slow but the mild spring weather made it less taxing. They made use of their few bows and arrows before departing the plains of Gondor, filling their stomachs with small game such a hare and fowl, thus sparing their gifted rations of jerky and dried fruits until the outer borders of Mordor, where the land was barren of life. They would snake down and around the western and southern borders of the mountain range Ephel Dúath, the Mountains of Shadow, which surrounded the ash covered lands. Even there, at the outward side of the mountains jagged upward slopes, they could smell sulfur yet rising from its fiery remnants.

Despite the foul air, since being homebound, the men were in high spirits and it was not until a full day of spring showers did they show any disgruntlement. That evening they had found some shelter against the rocky mountainside; the cave jutted in just enough to shield the company from the downpour. The rain only gave Vezely's mind an excuse to reminisce of the evening her and Legolas were caught in the storm out on the terrace, and remember the warmth they found in each other's arms later that evening. It would only be the start of her cherishing those memories in hard times, and this time her discomfort was minimal.

Vezely would come to know the Captain better through their long conversations as they rode their horses next to each other in the front of the line. He had a wife, a daughter and one son, both soon to be of age, and a homestead he hoped to return to and provide for by continued service to his clan. He told her, "If not for them, I would vow to go north with you on your mission;" for the man held great respect for the General who had proven her worth more than once. Yet Vezely also deemed he would bring King Elessar's words of peace to his people, and through his future service, strengthen Khand to become a strong nation once more. She hoped, through him and the others she escorted back, Khand would be an ally rather than an enemy if war with the People of the Dark Lands came to pass.

Remi remained quiet, marching alongside the other warriors, though often she felt his eyes upon her. One evening as she sat aside the Captain at their small fire, for the two leaders had segregated themselves from the others as was custom, Remi approached and asked permission to hold council alone with her. Vezely bid the Captain momentary leave, and she acted impassively as he sat beside her. She had grown ever more distrustful of his intentions since the incident with the dagger.

"Measure your words carefully, divinator," Vez spoke darkly, and she decided to resume honing one of her sai's blades with a sharpening stone, "And remind yourself that only with my continued silence of your foul deed, do you yet draw breath."

Remi swallowed what spit he had in his mouth before speaking; yes, he had pick pocketed the ceremonial dagger from Vezely's bag after the burial ritual and yes, he bargained it to win the trust of Yaban. He figured if Vezely lost, he would be under the good graces of the new leader, and if she won, well, he did not fear her repercussion; perhaps not until now. He fixed his posture and placed his hands on his knees, "The dagger provided me a way into their coup, giving me access to the information you asked me to obtain. Do you think they would have trust your personal divinator otherwise?" He tried to speak nonchalantly as if worry of rebuke or worse did not enter his mind. He then added as a compliment, "Besides, I had no doubt you could handle a blade being thrown into the mix."

"And the deliverer of that blade is dead for it," Vez rejoined unimpressed by his explanation.

"I had nothing to do with that," he defended casually, crossing his arms.

Vez arched one eyebrow up, finally looking at the young man who sat irreverently before her, "And if you are not here to repent, then what is it you desire to council with me on, divinator? For I have no need for my stars to be read tonight or any night hereafter;" her tone was slightly mocking the expected deeds of his trade.

Remi uncrossed his arms, "It is about my position, General," he then paused trying to find a more suitable tone, "I desire to be a divinator no longer and request to be bestowed the position of warrior."

Vez narrowed her eyes on him, and she became displeased when she observed his request was genuine. "Tell me, why does a warrior suit you better? You will lack rank aside those more seasoned and skilled. While as divinator, and one who once served the general, you hold some power."

Remi then made his intention known, "I desire to go north with you, to aid your cause."

"A cause which is not your own," Vez scoffed a moment later, asking, "What is it you desire with this?"

"To prove myself to you," he replied undeterred; garnering him an unkind look.

Vez considered again his base desires and scraped the stone across her blade two more times until she spoke. "I vowed to bid all these men leave to do as they please once we reach the borders of Khand. Thus I cannot deter you from this choice, or deny a lowered position you prefer to hold," then adding as warning, "But nor am I convinced your charge is worthy. If you follow me north, do not expect my trust to come easy."

"Gratitude, General," Remi bowed his head down and placed his fist to his chest in deference before rising up and leaving her side.

Vezely wondered if she was making a mistake in these matters, but a part of her felt Remi yet had a role to play in her life, though what that role was eluded her.

* * *

Three weeks after leaving Minas Tirith the company reached the borders of Khand after trekking along the northern edges of Harad. There, the four Haradrim in their group entered their homeland, seeking the outer forts for food and supplies before trekking through the sand deserts to their kin's settlements, which lay on the northern reaches of the land's jungles. They bid the General gratitude for her assistance and as the Variags who also departed, they vowed to bring King Elessar's words of peace to their leaders. Many years later she would hear such tasks were followed through with and Aragorn welcomed both the Haradrim and Variags as ambassadors to his court. Aragorn would also grant them rule over the lands of Mordor, in hopes that it would be green once more.

From Khand, Vezely would bestow the Captain the honor of leadership over the troop in her leave, and then depart northward with twelve willing men; each vowing to assist her in locating the Blue Wizards and to aid in Rhun's recovery. They were all young and able-bodied, without families of their own to return to or pressing responsibilities to uphold since they entered the war as vassals and not overlords. Most had an adventurous desire to further test fate's dealings, having survived the war; many believed they were yet destined for greatness. And others, Remi included, had grown a fondness for their leader and wanted to remain in her presence for they believed through her they could be made great.

The thirteen first traveled northeast, passing the eastern borders of Mordor, where Easterling forts stood now abandoned. Beyond defense purposes, they were used as check points for the militia; places of rest where legions could camp after they crossed the steppes and before continuing on into Mordor. They had a natural source of water and held stocks of rice and grain to feed those on route. The company's rations were low and would have already depleted if not for the generosity of the warriors they departed from. They had provided them with what was left after the journey from Gondor; knowing they would soon be replenished in their homeland. They needed supplies and decided to try the forts to see if anything was left behind.

The first abandoned fort on their path proved fruitful even if it provided no means of nourishment. The cleaned out rice and grain stocks and the wagon trails leaving northward, gave Vezely hope that those who once manned it returned to their homes, rather than westward to defend Mordor. The fruitfulness of their stay instead came in the form of weaponry. The supply room offered her and her men an array of swords, spears, daggers, scythes, bows, shields and armor to choose from, and they outfitted themselves appropriately for travel.

Kor, the most seasoned warrior of the group, though not yet passing his fourth decade, brought Vezely an Easterling officer's sword; and what all deemed was the best weapon among the cache. "General," he courteously handed it to her with outstretched hands. Kor was tall with strong arms; his black hair hung disheveled about his face but it did not pass his now bearded chin; for up until that point the men had no knives to shave on their journey. And his face was scarred aside his left eye, the remnant of the war just passed. Despite his rough look, he was not unpleasant in demeanor, and had garnered approval of the Captain, who informed Vezely of his trustworthiness before their sundering at the borders of Khand. Already she had taken a liking to him, for he was sharp, respectful, and appeared tireless in spirit.

She tilted her head down accepting the weapon he held; having long desired a proper sword since losing hers in the battle of Pelennor Fields. It was a slightly curved, thin one-edged blade, with a black leather bound hilt that could accommodate two hands comfortably. It was made of strong, militia grade steel, but being forged for an officer, it was considerably finer in detail. The cross guard and hilt's end were plated in gold and the black metal scabbard was finely etched with common runes declaring the common oaths of leadership. She unsheathed it and felt its perfect balance, and eyeing the blade's sheen she realized it was unused; unknowing then how soon it would be christened.

Two days later they came across an abandoned settlement; a cluster of wooden structures, fenced pastures, and food shelters in a disheveled condition, suggesting long disuse.

"No one's lived here for at least half a decade," Kor confirmed while examining one of shelters.

"Though it's been a more recent resting place for Orcs," Vezely rejoined displeased, noting the fresh tracks and refuse scattered behind. "We need to be wary," she reminded her men. While Orcs were now a declining race, small patches undoubtedly escaped decimation and they would have journeyed eastward rather than West to their slaughter. Her eyes then scanned the surrounding plains, seeing to the east a line of cottonwood trees.

"There are settlements to the east of the thin forests of Avalut?" Vez asked Kor, desiring to confirm her knowledge of the land's demographics.

"Aye General," Kor answered, ready to provide his knowledge, "The southern border clans dwell on the grasslands on the eastern side, where it is more hospitable to crops and closer to water sources."

"Then we go in that direction," she affirmed a moment later, having made her decision.

"We then abandon our northward march?" Kor asked respectfully.

"For a time," she stated nonchalantly while fitting a black leather gauntlet over her wrist. Then looking up, she addressed the men who stood before her, speaking her thoughts steadily, "The surviving Orcs from Mordor will have also taken that route, and I fear where they have gone, destruction followed. We may be too late to aid the border settlements, but if Orcs are tarrying in these lands, perhaps we can stop them from doing any more harm."

Kor smirked; containing his delight with the decision. As the others, he looked forward to the opportunity to use the weapons they just mustered. Variags loved fighting, and the thought of a hunt only ignited their appetite.

* * *

Not one night later they would come across a small band of Orcs in the thin forests of Avalut; the ones they assumed were at the abandoned settlement just prior. The thirteen quietly surrounded them, and Vezely bid them hold their positions to see if the Orc's conversation offered any knowledge of their intent. Yet their speech proved unimportant and they sprang on them.

The ambush was quick, for the Orcs did not expect danger in lands that appeared desolate of travelers and their weapons had been cast far from their sides. They would keep one alive, however, to question him.

The Orc gritted and cursed as they bond his arms and legs, tying him to a tree. "Curse you forsaken race of Men," he spat, "Evil, cruel Men. Kill me! Kill me!"

Vez walked over to the wallowing creature while cleaning the black blood off her blade with a cloth, "We will kill you," she told him with a smile, "But it is the time before then that you should beg mercy for." Orcs do not readily give information, but being skilled in various torture methods, it did not take long for Vezely to discover where the pack was heading.

Impressed that she got the Orc to speak after cutting off two of his fingernails, Kor remarked, "I can see this working quite well on men."

Vez shrugged, replying, "Men are easier, for there is one appendage when threatened removal that gets them talking."

The Variags admired her unflinching violence; for Vezely it was simply a means to an end. Without leadership of Sauron, the surviving Orcs would return to their tribal communes, living in underground lairs and pillaging nearby settlements. The Orc told them exactly where he was headed, specifying the small mountain range to the east of the forests. She feared the southern Easterling clans were and would be their victims if left to congregate and multiply. She decided to turn her men's purpose to eradicating them.

"We rest here until dawn," she told her crew, and then noting the anxious demeanor and quaking hands of the youngest in the company, Otar, she cupped his shoulder and looked him consolingly in the eyes. "Tend to the fire, Otar, and then get some rest," her softened voice and the light in her face calmed him. Vezely gathered he was undergoing post-war stress, for she had seen warriors fall victim to it before. The scuffle with the Orcs must have triggered this adverse reaction. After making sure the rest of the company was well, and setting men on watch along their perimeter, her and Kor would spend until dawn devising their future trajectory.

* * *

For the following year, Vezely and her men would spend their time in the Easterling south lands. They first laid siege to the small mountain lair, picking off the Orcs who descended from it at night and waylaying those that desired to enter. But in order to eradicate it and other strongholds they would find, they needed local support since they were few in number. It was her first attempt at mustering the strength of the residents that remained; asking them to be part time warriors. Despite their defeat and the loss of many of their kin, the people of the area were still steadfast in resolve and banded together.

The thirteen's aid and exploits had gained them mild fame in those lands, since the Orcs had already wrecked havoc on many of their settlements. Later, when they went from settlement to settlement, the inhabitants welcomed them. Vezely and her men, however, kept their identities and origins hidden. The Elf never went without a long strip of black fabric banded and tied around her ears, calling herself "the General" only. And when leaders asked about their company, they would say, "We are from the south," and as to their purpose, "We seek peace for Rhun and her people."

"Peace?" they would ponder, believing now their Orc problem had diminished, "We are defeated. Most of our warriors walk with our ancestors. Are we not forced to be at peace?"

Ramblings from the north had just started filtering into the territory - People from the Dark Lands had not diminished and they were sending envoys throughout the land to treat with magistrates and clan leaders. Vezely and her men suspected they were seeking to leverage their influence by rerouting trade routes to their benefit; hiding their true intent under a banal desire to restart the economy. This would soon make the outer lands indebted to them and in the future, they would be easier to control.

The south was the least populated of the Easterling territories, but due to the flat plains, which were more fertile as you travel northward, many considered it Rhun's agricultural heartland. During the war, however, the inhabitants neglected their crops and herds, believing they would be moving West to the lands Sauron promised them in Rohan and Gondor. The settlements thus now had to refocus their energies on their agricultural staples, cotton, sorgum, millet, and nuts among other things, and to tending their large goat population.

Settlements were grander and more densely populated as one traveled northward since they were closer to the Sea of Rhun - which Easterlings say is where the life of their land springs forth. There, four defined territories of the now defunct Easterling Coalition share the sea's shore and stretch out from there. The sixth, the People of the Dark Lands, do not share its banks and are located farther to the East, in the vast stretches of lands beyond.

The company would continue their journey towards the sea, returning to their prior mission to seek out the Blue Wizards. For many months they traveled from city to city, but no word, not even rumors, circulated concerning the two Istari, who all believed to have vanished the moment the Easterling Resistance was brought down.

"...We are searching in vain," Kor spoke carefully, while Vez stared pensively northward, as they stood atop the cliff face they were camped on that evening, "If they yet stand surely they would not be idle."

Vezely held onto hope for their survival and their guidance, but now she felt the same as Kor and knew finding them could no longer be their purpose of wandering. Instead, they would turn to seek confirmation of another rumor; about towns destroyed in the westward lands of the Easterling province of Logathavuld. Those were the lands where, when abandoning their charge during the siege of the Lonely Mountain, the militia of the People of the Dark Lands marched through to return to their homeland.

"...In Logathavuld, we would have allies," Vezely replied, speaking her thoughts on this new direction. "They were the least trustful of the People of the Dark Lands during the war. And if they have caused hurt to their people, they would be quick to aid us..."

* * *

_Third Age 3021; 2 years after leaving Minas Tirith..._

The towns on the western reaches of Logathavuld had been raped and pillaged, and their inhabitants burned as offerings to Morgoth. The Logathavulds knew the People of the Dark Lands were responsible, but having suffered the greatest number of causalities of any of the provinces in the war they could do little in the form of retribution. They did, however, snub the envoys sent from the Dark Lands, not desiring their council or offerings of resuming trade for they suspected, as Vezely did, their intentions were foul. And thus, her small company found welcome in the halls of their leaders, who listened eagerly to news from the West, and of the high king of Gondor's desire for peace. For Logathavuld was a prosperous province in terms of trade, especially with the West. Within the region sat the powerful state of Dorwinion, home of the most reputed wine in Middle Earth. Several other states were also growers and distributers of fine tobacco and spices, which before the war was found as far West as Dale and as far South as Minas Tirith. Sustaining peace with the West would be good for their trade.

It was also in Logathavuld that Vezely revealed her identity. And instead of distrust, their leaders saw in her prospects for reestablishing a militia in their province. Yet, Vezely was not of that mind. Yes, she desired a contingent of warriors, but not for that contingent to be beholden to one province.

"...I do not dissuade you from preparing arms. Instead, to secure peace in Rhun I would establish a force that stood not for one province but for all. One whose mission is not assault, as the Dark Lord wanted it, but to protect those territories who desire peace from those who do not," she told them in council.

Believing her cause valid and just, but more so finding it beneficial for trade, the leaders of Logathavuld were the first province to pledge aid to her cause. Thus started Vezely's building of a defense force; a standing company of men and women not unlike the former Easterling Coalition, pledged to keep order in Rhun.

* * *

Remi handed her a mug of ale, "Congrats, General," he then lifted his own mug in praise, "You have accomplished your mission."

Vez smiled slightly while taking the mug from him. The men decided they needed a night of revelry to celebrate the good tidings and forced her to join them at one of the city's taverns, even though she rarely went with them on their drinking and gambling exploits. "It is only the start of it," she replied humbly.

Remi had surprisingly proved his worth in the group, even becoming friends with Otar and helping the young man adjust to life post-war. She knew he yet held affection for her, but Vezely remained cold to all his advances. And if that wasn't enough for Remi to back off, he grew to fear Kor, who disliked the way he laid eyes upon her.

"A _good_ start," Remi replied with a pleasant smile, placing his hand on her forearm, "You should at least take some joy from that."

 _Joy_ , the word sounded foreign to Vezely; it was difficult to be so optimistic. The support of the Logathavulds' leaders came considerably easier than she expected, and she began to worry she helped start a power play between them and the People of the Dark Lands; becoming a chess piece in their game. It was imperative to establish similar relations with the other Easterling provinces, garnering their support and thus making the Dark Lands keep their power in check.

The leaders from all the provinces were called to a council meeting in Logathavuld, including the envoys from the Dark Lands; for they did not want to shut them out. The majority were in support of rebuilding a neutral contingent of warriors, believing they were stronger as a united Easterling nation, rather than divided. Thus, clan or state leaders signed a treaty of peace and pledged their willing warriors to offer years of service at the various command posts to be reestablished throughout the regions. The People of the Dark Lands signed the treaty but were less inclined to pledge either resources or labor to the outposts. And during a heated argument between their envoys and the leaders of Logathavuld, stemming from accusations being flung concerning their retreat during the war, Vezely foresaw, as did others, that civil war loomed on the horizon. She also deduced some hesitation from the province of Agasha Dag, which lay east of the Sea of Rhun. This province shared the westward border with the People of the Dark Lands. Perhaps, she wondered, they were already falling susceptible to the Dark Lands' influence.

* * *

For the first time in three years, the twelve would separate. Despite being of Variag descent, Vezely convinced the leaders to allow four of her best men to be given officer positions at the re-christened command posts in the Easterling provinces. There, cohorts of warriors would be trained and maintained as standing forces. The cohorts at each were small, no more than three-hundred strong. This was because they were deemed as precautionary, rather than necessary. Many leaders did not yet worry about strife, since all provinces were focused on economic recovery, caring more about trade than arms. And the People of the Dark Lands seemed also to be of like mind, focusing on their exports; not that there was any stopping of their opiates trade.

Vezely was unsure whether reestablishing these posts waylaid their true intentions, causing them to revise their tactics, and devise a more sinister plot. Yet she felt better knowing a militia was being built to act as a buffer against any future encroachment.

She would stay in Logathavuld, whose leaders much desired having her command their main outpost in Szreb Kain, on the northeast borders of Dorwinion. Thus, she sent Kor to Agasha Dag, the province closest to the Dark Lands, and the one she was most wary about. "...I would go there myself for fear of future trouble," Vezely confided in him, knowing it would not be a blissful charge believing that some of their leaders may already be under the thumb of the Dark Lands, "That is why I send you in my stead..." for she placed great trust in the man.

Kor would take several of the company with him, including Remi, desiring to give the General a break from his presence. Remi was not keen on leaving, and made it known to his superiors, though he did not disobey orders.

For the next several years, Vezely and her men aided in forming the Easterlings' standing militia, with one of their first tasks being the obliteration Orcs. The peace treaty even extended into Variag territory, thanks to her former companions, the Captain in particular, who now held some influence in the region. Peace between the provinces was maintained through diplomacy efforts. Yet trade disagreements between regions within Logathavuld and Agasha Dag began to cause concern, and though resolved they highlighted the distrust brewing throughout the land.

* * *

_8th year of the Fourth Age; 10 years after leaving Minas Tirith..._

Recovery never occurs equally in all areas. It was inevitable for certain states to find themselves better off than others, and for some to feel neglected in the great hope for a stronger Rhun. The People of the Dark Lands of course took advantage of this inequality and sent envoys to disadvantaged states offering them economic support in exchange for fealty; though the perimeters of that relationship were hidden. But more than this, they used something else to exert their influence that Vezely did not readily expect; their culture. The cult of Melkor worship had started to spread.

When Vezely first heard that Easterling tribes in the province of Sogathavuld were making incursions into the Western territory of Rohan, she was surprised. The clans which bordered the southern part of Rhovanion or the Wilderlands did not openly show any intent at territorial expansion, and despite some disgruntlement on trade issues, they did not appear flippant of the peace treaty acts.

"...I will go myself," Vezely declared at a hearing, which was called after receiving a letter of the infractions from Sogathavuld's only outpost in the area. "We cannot risk destabilizing our yet tenuous relations with the West because of some rogue states..." Logathavuld's leaders were particularly concerned, for their trade with the West had finally reached where it was pre-war.

With a thirty strong unit of female cavalry she rode south, wondering if there she would meet old friends in order to apologize for her inability to keep her promise of protecting their borders...


	47. War Games and Love Letters

A sense of foreboding overtook Vezely as they neared the outpost that sent the correspondence concerning the raids. It stood the farthest westward of any of their posts and at the very borders of the vast flat lands called Rhovanion. There sat agriculturally prosperous homesteads of inhabitants who had pledged allegiance to Gondor. Farther west was the River Anduin, which was a natural border of Rohan on its other side. The correspondence did not specify how far the incursions went, so Vezely knew not whether she would have both Gondor and Rohan to answer to.

She halted her thirty strong all female cavalry seven leagues out; her Elf eyes looking to the banners being flown atop the posts. They appeared to be a light gray with a crimson mark upon their center, when the colors of the Reunited Easterlings Coalition were cobalt blue and gold.

"Those are not our banners," she spoke to her cavalry's Captain, Samsara; a woman in her mid-thirties who had a fiery heart, keen intellect, and steadfast resolve. She had risen to the position of Captain of the female cavalry quickly.

Samsara strained her eyes to see, but could not discern anything other than the fort itself on the horizon; then noting, "Our scouts are returning."

Samsara and Vezely rode out to meet them. "General. Captain," the two young riders tilted their heads down respectfully in greeting, but they could not hide the worry in their eyes. "The outpost," the one started timidly, "It no longer appears our own."

"Whose banners are being flown?" Vezely queried calmly, though already knowing the answer.

"They bear the red flame of the People of the Dark Lands, and," the scout hesitated, looking to her partner before continuing, "There are heads upon pikes, lining entry to the front gate."

Vezely closed her eyes momentarily disheartened, believing as they that those were the outpost's former officers. Re-centering her thoughts, she gave the scouts leave in order to council privately with Samsara. "...We will send two of our fastest riders north to Fort Aztros to assemble reinforcements. We will rally with them within the week to take back the fort."

Wondering why they were not also going north, Samsara queried, "And our company?"

"We ride West into Rhovanion," Vezely told her carefully.

"You risk us going straight into Western territories so armed?" Samsara voiced a worthy concern; she knew as Vezely did that they would face rebuke by Western forces who undoubtedly would have already been alerted if the raids into those lands were true.

"I am friends with their kings," Vezely responded unworried, "Through them we will discern what has happened and hopefully we can mend some ties before assuredly breaking them with our own so called allies," her eyes narrowed displeased on the grey banners perched atop the outpost's towers.

Right then, both women could see smoke rising up from within the fort's interior.

"If the People of the Dark Lands have claimed the outpost as their own, and are the ones who made incursions into Rhovanion, then the correspondence causes some concern," Samsara reasoned, for they did not know why it was sent or by who. It may have been sent by the outpost's former officers before they were taken over, but if it was sent by the new rulers, they wondered of their intentions.

With eyes yet afield, Vezely further reasoned, "That is what I ponder also, and further reason why I will not set foot near their gates." Then looking to Samsara with a smirk, "They would not expect us to turn West, however."

And so the cavalry rode into Rhovanion, heading due west before turning southwest. Their presence eventually went noticed by Gondorian scouts out patrolling the lands.

* * *

The scout was promptly ushered into the tent where Aragorn stood aside Eomer in council. The king of Rohan had been summoned from Edoras to a makeshift camp by Aragorn, in order to discuss what measures to take concerning the destruction of thirty homesteads on Rhovanion's plains. They were pillaged and burned to the ground with their residents either killed or taken. Those who witnessed the destruction of their neighbors had called for the aid of their king, who was alarmed by the news; especially since there had been no hostilities with Rhun since the great war.

Eomer had come with a contingent of Rohirrim to back up the Gondorian guard already posted; as was part of their treaty to assist each other in this region which had a history of Easterling invasion. Though the amassing of forces currently was in the precautionary stage; no plans had been made to march East on the perpetrators who left the lands marred but unoccupied. They knew where the Easterling outpost sat and were pondering their approach when the scout was brought in.

The young scout clicked his heels together and nodded curtly to the leaders before declaring the news, "My lords, there is a contingent of thirty armed Easterling horsemen ten leagues out. They are quick of pace and headed in our direction."

Eomer and Aragorn looked at each other with some unease before setting to their steeds to meet the horsemen with their own forces. While the approaching numbers were small and true purpose unknown, it was necessary to assume they were hostiles and had not entered Rhovanion without reinforcements following closely behind.

On the fields of the Brown Lands, the joined forces of Rohan and Gondor met for the first time since the war, an army of Easterlings riding atop black horses, clad in dark blue and black fabrics, and wearing black scarves wrapped around their heads and pulled over their faces, covering them from view. Hints of burnished gold could be seen in the sun's rays, such as on the vambrances they wore on their wrists. All had scimitars attached to their belts. They were heralding banners that were also blue in color and painted with two vertical golden suns set apart by a horizontal line; symbolizing the horizon line on the Sea of Rhun and the sun's reflection in it.

Vezely halted her cavalry, finding waiting before them a dual force that well outmatched the small company in her care. The women warriors shifted slightly in their saddles, wary of being set upon without reinforcements. Still wearing their head coverings the General and Captain rode forward, with a banner bearer riding behind them, thus prompting Aragorn and Eomer to do the same.

The riders met in the center of the grassy field between the two lines. Keeping their hands on the hilts of their swords, the kings narrowed their eyes suspiciously on the foreign riders who dared stride into their lands so armed even if weak in numbers. They both wondered if they were the ones who committed the acts of violence upon Rhovanion's inhabitants. "What business do you have in these lands?" Aragorn asked strongly, "For on top of foul deeds already committed, this can be deemed an act of war."

"A war I would not see come to pass," the sound of her voice lightened their demeanor, sparking bemusement until Vezely removed her scarf from her face and pushed it down from her head. She bowed her head down and placed her fist to her chest, "My friends."

"Vez?" Aragorn had not expected to look upon the Elf who left Minas Tirith a decade past. Time had not touched her face, but she appeared changed to him somehow. It was not simply because her hair had grown; now cut bluntly above her shoulders with a thick fringe cut across her brow. Nor was it because she was clad in regalia befitting a position of worth; gold rings and mid-rings lined her fingers such that the silver betrothal ring was a lost among them. No, it was her stature; she held herself with true authority, appearing before them as a general of true worth, and as with all leaders, one who held the position's worrisome weight on her shoulders.

Eomer was equally surprised; even more so for not recognizing the Rohirrim mare she still rode. Léofara was decked in Easterling outfitting; her mane and tail clipped and braided in a foreign style. She no longer looked as a horse of the Rohirrim.

Vezely promptly declared her purpose, "I come on behalf of the Reunited Easterling Coalition to investigate the wrongs committed on your lands. And," she added concerned, "To apologize, for I have broken my promise of keeping them free from those who would do harm."

"Investigate?" Eomer asked confused, after taking a glance at the woman who rode aside her. He did not expect her companion, who had also removed her head covering, to be another woman.

Vezely explained carefully, "Upon hearing of the rogue incursions into Rhovanion, we rode to offer assistance not expecting to find our western outpost overrun by the People of the Dark Lands. We do not yet know their true purpose, though it appears they took the outpost by force, slaying the officers within. We came west hoping to find out what happened in these lands before we engage them."

Aragorn and Eomer did not doubt her in these matters, though neither knew the full scope of what had been transpiring in Easterling territories since the war. Aragorn offered sincerely, "We will do what we can to assist you."

Saying respectfully, "Gratitude my lords. Captain Samsara and I will need to see the sites of these attacks."

Aragorn found the request easy to comply with, adding, "Your riders can set up temporary camp next to ours. Then we can leave from there."

Vezely tilted her head down and pressed her fist to her chest. After turning her horse from them, she peered back and smiled slightly, "Despite the circumstances, it is good to see your faces again."

* * *

"Olani!" Vezely called to the first lieutenant while walking over to her as she dismounted her horse, "Set up camp and make sure our warriors rest. The Captain and I will return shortly."

Olani accepted her orders with a polite nod, after which her eyes shifted to the West men's camp they were setting up next to and its inhabitants; who were now taking an interest in the new company.

Noting her glance, Vez added smirking slightly, "They are not use to seeing Easterlings, nor women warriors. Be gentle with them;" knowing her riders could take care of themselves.

Samsara and her followed the two kings, along with what Vez assumed were typical kingly bodyguards. Five centuries ago, it was on the plains of Rhovanion where Vezely began her assaults as a young leader of the Balchoth. Then it was an independent realm, thus easily conquered. It was not until they entered Rohan that they met true resistance. Recollections of this past inevitably reentered her mind when she saw the first fire gutted farm shed. Judging by what was left of the structure, the people's architecture had not evolved much since.

Samsara was the first to dismount her horse. An expert tracker, she knew exactly how to survey the ground and she moved through the site quickly. For her, the destruction wrought by the People of the Dark Lands was a personal matter. Ten years ago her village unluckily stood on their militia's marching path when they retreated from the siege at the Lonely Mountain. She witnessed the destruction of her home and close kin from afar, being one of only a handful of survivors. Being from a large family of many siblings, she was not chosen among them to fight in the war; instead, she was charged with protecting their homestead in their absence. When hearing the call to reform the region's defense forces, she answered eagerly. She held the same amount of suspicion of their supposed allies, and thus worked well alongside Vezely.

Vezely slowly dismounted after her; after taking the mare's reins she asked the two lords for verification of some information they gave her prior, "You said there were thirty homesteads such as this?"

Yet upon their horse, Eomer and Aragorn's eyes shifted from watching Samsara back to Vez. Aragorn knew the woman was tracking and queried whether she would conclude what he had when he surveyed this homestead prior. He confirmed, "Thirty, and not all inhabitants are accounted for," afterwards he dismounted.

Turning her face to the side as she yet knelt on the ground, Samsara called back to the group in Westron, knowing how to make basic conversation in their tongue, "Three were taken;" for she could read in the tracks how many were bound and carted off. Vezely walked to her side, looking on the same grounds. After Samsara stood up aside her, the young Captain confided quietly in Easterling, " _To be sacrifices to Melkor. Smoke was rising from the outpost_."

Vez nodded and exchanged a silent understanding as to why Samsara was wary in making this known to the two Western rulers. Vez turned to Eomer and Aragorn, who remained by their steeds, announcing what she considered a false hope, but what she thought was preferable for them to believe, "It is possible those unaccounted for remain alive in the westward outpost."

An elderly woman then crept from around the other side of the burnt structure; at first afraid to make herself known to the approaching guards. "Alive? Alive?" her voice croaked as if clinging onto her last thread of hope, "My granddaughter, my grandson," she cried, falling on her knees before Vezely and clasping her hands in prayer in front of her. "They took them all. Evil men took them. They killed my husband, my son, and raped my son's wife, and took her with them. Are they alive? Please, please. You must tell me. You must," her words became an incoherent mess as tears rolled from her eyes and she fell forward.

Vez stepped back one small stride, desiring not to be touched by the distraught figure before her; her face remained void of emotion. She held not disdain, but a necessary detachment. She turned her head to Samsara, confirming the suspicions she had been milling over, keeping her tongue in Easterling, " _If they did not burn them here, it is as if..."_

She allowed Samsara to finish her thought, " _As if they desired to lead the West men back to the outpost_."

Noting the chill response the two warriors gave to the old woman, Aragorn quickly went over to her, placing his hand upon her forearm and consoling her with words of comfort.

After Aragorn had steadied the pathetic form back to her feet, Vez turned and addressed her, "Old woman. You witnessed all this and yet here you stand?" Her strong voice sounded as if interrogating.

"They left me," she cried back, uncertain why she needed to defend herself, "I do not know why. I do not know."

Samsara spoke again in Easterling, her eyes narrowed in thought, " _They are not merciful_."

" _Nor careless_ ," Vez scoffed back in Easterling; then querying the woman further, "Do you remember the color of their raiment and their banners?"

She shook her head as if struck dumb, "They wore, they wore..." then shock took her, and she gazed wide-eyed upon Vezely, "They wore what you are wearing...You...you did this?"

Unfazed by her blame, Vezely queried further, "And their banners?"

"Blue and gold," the woman started shaking and Aragorn could not keep her on her feet and she slumped to the ground before him, holding her head in her hands to sob. "Blue and gold..."

Vez diverted her narrowed eyes, "Interesting," speaking as if intrigued by the games they were playing; what was her enemy's intent with cloaking themselves in their raiment, she wondered. Nearby, Eomer looked upon the two women sternly, and as Aragorn was about to break words, Vezely turned back to the old woman, declaring with a polite nod, "Gratitude for your assistance. Rest assured it was not us who committed these acts. But those responsible will pay and we will do what we can to return what is left of your family;" though there was little consoling in her voice and the old woman did not rise her eyes to look at her again.

Aragorn would then ask the old woman if she had a place to stay and food to eat, as Samsara and Vezely walked away from them to council.

" _They intended to start a war with the West on our behalf before we brought war on them_ ," Vezely stated, displeased by their tactics.

" _That is my assumption also_ ," Samsara confirmed, " _And if not war, then a perfect means to disrupt trade relations_."

Vezely nodded pleased with Samsara's astuteness. She then explained her next intentions, " _I will hold council with these kings before we leave to assure that does not happen_..."

Aragorn and Eomer exchanged an uneasy glance; both had become unfortunately suspicious of Vezely and her Captain - their covert conversation, Vezely's cold handling of the old woman, and that the perpetrators wore their raiment and carried their banners.

It was not until that evening that Vez quelled their skepticism, disclosing to them the relations that had transpired in the Reunited Easterling Coalition, of which the People of the Dark Lands were a part of. "...I can assure you, it was not my men who rode West and defiled your lands," adding further what she believed of their intentions. And then she detailed her own, assuring them, "...My troops will rally with reinforcements, and after we retake the outpost, I will personally escort their prisoners into your hands..."

While Aragorn and Eomer would have offered aid in this siege, neither desired for their involvement to be taken as an act of war on any of Rhun's provinces. Nor did Vezely want them to interfere. However, they would place a contingent of guards along the eastern borders to protect Rhovanion from future incursions, and, if Vezely could persuade the Easterling leaders to pay it, Gondor would accept recompense for the destruction to those lands. She knew most of the provinces in the Reuntied Easterling Coalition, especially those who depended on trade with the West, would pay it to mend ties.

After they finished council on these matters, Samsara left their tent to tend the troops; just from her manner and curt nod Vez could tell the young leader was slightly displeased with how much information her General provided the Western leaders. Samsara was also surprised Vezely was being so accommodating. All of Rhun knew Vezely fought for the West in the great war, and while most overlooked this along with her race, seeing her aid as a boon to their recovery, a few questioned her claim to such a position in their military. Samsara had not given any of this another thought until today.

* * *

That evening, Vezely sat comfortably in the modest but king-worthy circular tent; sharing a small meal of hot beef stew, rosemary bread, and wine while seated across from two friends. The company and the taste of the West's food returned her to the time spent in their lands ten years past. They had decided to place business aside momentarily and catch up on more personal matters, before a quick night's rest and dawn saw Vezely and her company's departure from those lands.

"...We have a daughter, who is now four..." Aragorn told her, while Eomer shared after, "...and I have a son, born this past winter..."

While having kept her softer emotions characteristically low-key, Vezely could not help but look upon the two men endearingly as she noted their pride in sharing such news.

"...Eowyn has a daughter and is expecting her second..." Eomer told her when she asked of her friend, "...She has found happiness in Ithilien."

 _Ithilien_ , the place sounded as a mythical realm of days long past; the memories she held there both soothed and pained her at the same time. "And how fairs Ithilien?" Vez seemed to ask this nonchalantly, taking a sip of her wine right after and not allowing her eyes to engage them; it was as if only indirectly she could ask about Legolas.

Noting some awkwardness, Aragorn answered with care, "Its beauty has grown beyond what it was long ago. Thanks to the Woodelves who now dwell there, and of course, to Legolas. He runs a thriving colony. All there respect him and he is a gracious leader."

Vez eyes remained diverted on the contours of her wine glass which she sat back down on the table before her. A wash of melancholy had flushed through her body as if she had just drunk too much wine, for Legolas felt so far away from her. Yet a thoughtful smile stretched across her face and she appeared only grateful for the news, "Then he is well."

Aragorn had a soul searching gaze which could see through ones defenses, though Vezely remained notoriously hard to read. "Aye, he is," then asking carefully, "And how fairs yourself?"

She looked up to meet his kind eyes with ones showing uncertainty in how to answer. "I find myself well adjusted," she replied tilting her chin up to show assurance; purposefully deferring the real question, "And as well as one can be on the brink of civil war. I can only hope the last years have not been in vain..."

* * *

The siege and takeover of the outpost was quick, though bloody. The usurpers did not desire to surrender their claim, even though they were outnumbered and Vezely made an attempt at negotiating with them to surrender. Unfortunately, many of the remaining prisoners, the homesteaders from Rhovanion, were put to death during the siege. Vezely assumed the usurpers planned to massacre them from the start, perhaps even expecting the post to be reclaimed in the end and evidence of their involvement to be cleaned up.

Thus only a handful of prisoners would be brought to Aragorn, who waited aside Eomer and a small contingent of their forces on Gondor's side of the unmarked territorial boundary between the two lands. There, perched on top of their kingly horses, they witnessed the post's takeover and the bringing out of those captured; bound in chains and kicked unkindly onto their knees on the ground in front of the fort's walls. Both half expected to witness executions, especially when Vezely marched down their line sword in hand.

Vezely desired to execute all of them, as was deemed appropriate for their offense. Yet she would bring them back to headquarters and have them interrogated. They and their banners, now ripped down from the post's walls, would stand as proof of the People of the Dark Lands' treachery. Her warriors who handled them kicked them onto their knees before her as she marched by; some fell flat on their faces in the dirt.

Stopping in front of the commanding officer, she outstretched the curved tip of her sword to his chin, propping it up, "You should have surrendered," she smirked, relishing a small but satisfying victory. "Now instead of an honorable death by my sword, you will endure the shame of your people's betrayal;" alerting him that his execution would be uncharacteristically postponed.

The man remained silent and starred back at her darkly; for he was too proud a warrior to allow her words to noticeably affect him. Yet the lesser ranked officer next to him could not hold his tongue and spat a curse, "White fiend. Melkor betrayer. May His wrath destroy you in the end."

Olani, who stood aside him, whacked him across the jaw with her sword's hilt, sending him to the ground; as necessary payback for insulting their general.

Vezely held her hand up calmly, halting her lieutenant from reprimanding the man any further. "Lift him up," she then commanded, and the man was roughly tugged to his feet. _White fiends,_ that was what many men in Rhun called the Elves; seeing them only as enemies to their race. Grasping his throat with one hand, she leaned in to stare into his eyes, telling him, "It is my wrath you should fear, for I will remember your insult when the leaders are finished with you. We shall meet again." And her threat was not in vain.

As promised, Vezely escorted the survivors into Aragorn's care; apologizing that there were so few, and promising to aid in securing recompense for these wrongs.

Deeming there was little her forces could have done to have prevented the lives lost, Aragorn accepted her apology and officially declared the People of the Dark Lands as enemies of the West, and handed her a document for her leaders containing this declaration and all the necessary information on the damages done to his lands. Vezely felt when taking the parchment from his hands that this document may be the very catalyst that starts the war she long perceived on the horizon.

Addressing only her, Aragorn asked, "What is to be done with your prisoners?" His eyes were looking beyond to the row of bond warriors now being chained together for transport up north.

"They will be further interrogated before paying for their crimes," then she wondered, "Does Gondor desire more personal retribution? For I am not averse to providing those wronged the pleasure of it;" though taking as many prisoners as possible to her leaders was preferable, offering Aragorn a share did make for a suitable recompense in her mind.

Aragorn shifted in his saddle slightly, knowing she asked if he desired to carry out some of their executions. "That is not Gondor's way," he affirmed politely, though his tone implied he was uncomfortable with her cultural assumption.

"Of course," Vezely reminded herself, hastily ducking her head down in apology. It had been sometime since she confronted her cultural differences and it made her stomach churn slightly. She added in explanation, "It is Rhun's way."

They departed on friendly terms as they did a decade past. Before leaving, Vezely slowly handed Aragorn a folded letter. A red wax seal stamped with the character of her name held it shut. "I have a small request," she said quietly, "Please bring this to him;" she did not need to specify who she desired it delivered to.

* * *

"Legolas! Legolas!" the dark haired child cried out excitedly, running barefoot along a small swept path to a modest dwelling that sat among the green trees of Ithilien.

The tall Elf met her along the way, swooping her up into his arms, being greeted with a big hug after, "What joy it is to see my little spark. To what do I owe this unexpected but wondrous visit?" He spoke to the child endearingly in Elvish, calling her his pet name "little spark," for she was always a ball of energy. The child turned her eyes to where she ran from, alerting him to Aragorn and Arwen, who held the child's discarded shoes, strolling up the path towards them.

"You return from Rhovanion?" Legolas asked Aragorn timidly, shifting the smiling child, who was now grasping a lock of his blond hair, onto his side.

Arwen calmly took her daughter, "Come love, we will visit Lord Thalion. Father and Legolas need to talk..."

When Aragorn was bid to ride with a contingent of his guard to Rhovanion, Legolas desired to accompany him. Hearing there were insurgences made upon Rovanion's inhabitants by Easterlings made him both fearful and hopeful of hearing about Vezely. No specific news had come from the East about her, except for brief mentions by Variag ambassadors who said she was a general of the defense forces of the Reunited Easterling Coalition. But Legolas remained in Ithilien; it made little sense for him to leave his duties and dust off his bow when he had placed the life of a warrior behind him.

Legolas's piercing gaze did not falter from Aragorn's as he sought confirmation of his thoughts to this visit, "You bring news to share?"

"More than that, my friend," he then pulled the folded letter from his shirt pocket, handing it to him; the wax seal facing upward.

Legolas apprehensively stared at the parchment before reaching for it; he immediately noted the red wax was imprinted with a Rhunic character, though he knew not that it represented her name.

Aragorn spoke carefully, "We did meet and the situation in Rhovanion will be resolved." Then seeing that his friend's eyes did not remove themselves from the letter he held, he cupped his shoulder encouragingly, "She is well, my friend. I will let you read her words first, and then tell you all you desire to know."

Legolas removed himself to the privacy of his home, and when closing the door behind him he held the letter close to his chest, halting and taking a deep breath before moving to the table to sit down. His fingers trembled slightly as he broke the wax seal and he closed his eyes as he unfolded it, opening them to the poorly scribed Elvish within.

_My love,_

_Often I wished I could send you word and I wondered if presented the opportunity, if I should only share with you my triumphs. I could tell you that I encouraged the forging of a peace treaty amongst the Easterling provinces which aided in the recovery of Rhun's trade and agriculture. And I helped build the defense forces Rhun lacked and lent sword to ending the region's Orc population. And thus I would leave out my many failures, poor judgments, and the fears I yet hold, not desiring to also send worry with my words. Though I realized you would perceive I made omissions, as you often did when I left things unsaid. Nor could I expect a trusted friend now returned from Rhovanion with knowledge of my troubles, to hold them from you. It appears, despite the efforts I just listed, the inevitable was only postponed and Rhun will be heading into the civil war I expected._

_I am mentally prepared for war and considering that much of this brewing conflict has been fought bureaucratically, finding myself back on the battlefield is welcomed. This is definitely the Balchoth in me saying this, for despite Orc dealings, my sword has felt more useful as decoration for the position I hold as general. It is strange. I have quickly fallen into old habits of leadership; old routines which I undertook as a general centuries past. These are as simple as the way I take my tea with my morning meal, or how I prepare my paperwork after inspections. I also find the responsibilities of leadership to feel the same and the care I have of those under my control is just as strong. None of this is cause for concern, of course, just a curious occurrence of the merging of this old part of me with who I am at the moment._

_Though I admit my main fear is that in war the imperfections of my past will resurface. Perhaps this fear is unfounded. I often hear your voice telling me so, for my cause is just now and my enemy true. The other night when I was gazing up at the stars, which I often do on clear nights, I sought guidance from their light. But no guidance came. My search for the Blue Istari failed and the land remains quiet on their assumed end. I had hoped when first setting out that I would find them and thus know if I was heading in the right direction. Trusting in myself is all I can do._

_Despite the circumstances under which I met Aragorn and Eomer, the opportunity to hear news of those I care for served for cherished reminder of the happiness I had discovered out West. Hearing of Ithilien's returned beauty rekindled the warmth I felt there when last we sat under its leaves. I am stationed in eastern stretches of Logathavuld, a region of rolling hills and grasslands, but one unfortunately sparse of woodlands. Knowing you are surrounded by such beauty and with true friends at your side, makes me grateful and perhaps a little envious. I long to experience this life, and think about it often, even if none of my associates would suspect this is true of me. I remember you once told me that time was irrelevant for an Elf, for we stand at the vastness of all that was before and all that will be after until the end of this world. Then why is it that I still count the days since I departed? Perhaps I shouldn't say that I miss you so, but I do. And the subtleties of what I miss surprise me; the feel of my hand in yours, the sound of your Elvish voice when teasing me, the curve of your lips when they smile, and your smell, and yes, you have one despite your cleanliness. Yet most of all I miss the simple comfort of your presence. You made me feel at peace with who I am. Whenever I am uncertain, I mentally place myself back in your embrace and I find my way forward again._

_I hope our next exchange is not through friends or via written word, but in person when I return._

_Yours always,_

_Vezely_

_P.S. My Elvish script has inevitably not improved. You may properly scold me later._

Legolas placed the letter down and clasped his hands below his chin to rest his head in contemplation. _I miss you too, Vezely,_ he murmured while closing his teary eyes, _I miss you too..._


	48. Compassion

Legolas headed around the side of his home to find Aragorn reclining on his porch, smoking a long pipe. In that moment, he did not appear as the king of Gondor, but as the ranger from the north. Often he and his small family would covertly leave the city walls and enjoy a few days in Ithilien among the Elven colony now housed there; not only to reconnect with nature but to spend time with dear friends.

After approaching his friend's side, regretful words poured from Legolas's mouth, "I should have accompanied you. I could have seen her again."

Aragorn removed the pipe from his lips and encouraged his friend to sit by his side. "You could not have known she would greet us in Rhovanion," he told him consolingly.

Resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together, Legolas settled his regret with a deep breath. He knew this was true; nor would he have taken up arms when his commitment was to the Elven colony in Ithilien. But reading her words reminded him how much he missed her and how he desired to be with her again, even if just momentarily. After a moment of silence, he asked, "Did she appear well?" Aragorn shifted the pipe in his hand slightly; the uncharacteristic gesture immediately alerted Legolas that the question made his friend uncomfortable to answer, for Aragorn did not often fidget. Legolas intervened calmly, "Aragorn, please tell me the truth. I desire to know."

Aragorn's impression of Vez was unsettling and he wondered if it was simply due to several years having passed such that his memory of her personality faltered. "She appears changed somehow," he spoke carefully, "Not only in appearance for her hair has grown and she is well-decorated, and she holds herself with the rank that that regalia signifies," he paused, noting Legolas concentrated stare. Aragorn breathed in uncomfortably before telling him, "She remained distant when I spoke of you. I would have thought she did not desire for me to bring you word of her if not for handing me that letter before we departed."

Legolas furled his brow as he contemplated this, but after reading her letter he realized this offered him little concern, "She yet wears her mental armor."

"She is an Easterling general now," Aragorn added, "Perhaps that is why I did not see the Vez I met ten years ago when she was free of such obligations."

His need to mention her being _Easterling_ led Legolas to wonder, "Did her actions cause concern?"

Aragorn tilted his head to the side, again uncomfortable to answer but he did want to be honest with his friend."Rhun is admittedly different in how they approach war and its victims..." He proceeded to explain what had happened in Rhovanion, and the destruction of the homesteads and those that had been taken as prisoners. He spoke of her handling of the old woman, the total lack of compassion she seemed to possess when confronted with her plight.

"But the fort was taken back, and the prisoners released?" Legolas asked, now unsure whether to be troubled.

"Aye, and with precision, but not many prisoners survived..." Aragorn further told him.

Legolas peered out into the woods ahead of them and explained his thoughts calmly, "It is not Gondor's way, nor the way of the Elves, but I do not believe she or the Easterlings lack compassion for those wronged. But as their general she needs to keep her mind to task, to appear strong even if that means a detachment from those around her."

"Her letter must reassure you of this," Aragorn pondered.

Legolas shook his head slowly side-to-side, confiding, "It has not reassured me, nor am I any surer that she will return. But I know she is yet safe and remains the Vezely I remember. That is enough."

Arwen returned with her daughter holding her hand and apologizing for being back so soon due to the eagerness of a four year old to play with her favorite "uncle."

The dark haired, grey eyed child leaned against Legolas where he sat, asking curiously, "Mother said you needed to speak to father about someone special to you?"

Legolas smiled endearingly at her, "Yes, someone very special to me."

"Oh," the little girl tilted and scratched her head, "If they are so special then why are they not here with you?"

Legolas momentarily admired the blissful simplicity of a child's thoughts and he explained to her softly, "Someday they will be, but there are important tasks they must do first." Then hoping to remove his mind from the pain of her absence, he looked upon the child playfully, "I suspect that on a hot day like today, you want to go swimming?" The child clapped her hands together and nodded cheerfully, afterwards instinctively placing her arms around his neck as he hoisted her onto his back. He would take her to the lake nearby, giving Arwen and Aragorn time alone to enjoy Ithilien's serenity.

"I worry for him," Arwen spoke quietly to her husband after the two were far from their sight, "He is torn between here and the sea. I have seen it before between lovers who did not equally hear the call. He does not admit it, but it will continue to pull him apart."

Aragorn had not noticed this. After returning from his travels with Gimli and a brief stay in the Woodland Realm assisting his father and grouping with members who would then migrate to Ithilien, Legolas worked diligently to tend the war torn forest, and he seemed to be at peace here. He would not often speak of Vezely, nor would he ever mention the desire to leave these shores. Of course, Arwen often could see things others could not. "He will wait regardless," Aragorn conceded, looking to refill his pipe.

"Yes, he will wait for her return," Arwen replied stoically, "As he will wait until all those he loves depart before him." The perishing of his mortal friends another burden he must endure.

As in the decade before, in the decade that followed, Legolas spoke little of Vezely. Many in the colony who never met the estranged Elf knew only that he waited for his betrothed to return, and they said nothing out of politeness and slight pity for a betrothal to stretch so long. He kept her letter in his home, enclosed in the book he had in his possession when she left, _First Age Poems of Love and Lament_. It was tucked away in his cedar trunk aside her plum coronation gown. He rarely opened the letter to read it again for it only reminded him that time continued to pass and her absence grew more pronounced.

He was content in Ithilien; the beauty of the forest, the constant company of his close friends, and the fulfillment he found in leading the colony all helped assuage, even if it did not diminish his desire to sail West. Often he would imagine what life would be like there with Vezely in it. He wondered of her presence alongside him when doing mundane tasks like cooking or tending the garden; or even more simply waking up next to her in the morning. Rather than pain him, such imaginings further comforted for he knew that someday she would ride into Ithilien on a black horse, clad in Easterling attire, and her entrance would amusingly stir the quiet colony from its idyllic slumber. And that day he would mark as the start of their lives together. It would only be a matter of time, he told himself, before his imaginings would become reality...

* * *

The People of the Dark Lands ceded from the Reunited Easterling Coalition after a heated council meeting in which the leaders of the five other provinces brought charges against them for claiming an outpost by force and almost starting a war with the West. While the Dark Lands' leaders tried to deny these charges and deem the Elf General unfit to believe, the evidence brought before them was overwhelming. The prisoners Vezely and her forces transported from the outpost were interrogated and the full plans of their leaders revealed. This, along with King Elessar declaring the People of the Dark Lands enemies of Gondor, was enough for the five other provinces to desire disassociation.

The leaders from the Dark Lands would leave the assembly room peacefully, but not without first cursing their former allies. They called upon Melkor to avenge them, deeming all those who allow a "white fiend" higher rank over men, traitors to the one true Master of Fate. When they then cursed Vezely by name, she did little more than provide them a disinterested glare as they exited the meeting hall. She was content in knowing they would find the heads of the southern post's usurpers lining their path out of the city.

The first act of the defense force after the secession was to abolish support to the two posts which sat within the People of the Dark Lands' borders. It was no secret that the People of the Darks Lands maintained their own standing army, but they had manned these posts under the banner of the defense forces in respect to the Peace Treaty. It also became necessary to increase reserve numbers in the posts in Agasha Dag, which was the province that bordered the Dark Lands. While many were suspicious of Agasha Dag's friendship with their neighbors, the province currently desired to remain within the Coalition and accepted the increase in troops.

Vezely decided it would be a good idea to travel to these outposts, not only to inspect them, as her job entailed, but to reconnect with Kor, who was the Lieutenant General of the Agasha Dag's forces. Captain Samsara and a smaller subset of her cavalry would accompany her.

* * *

Samsara poured Vezely another small cup of warm rice wine. They lounged in a private dining room at a local eatery, having stopped to rest in the city of Kug that sat on the borders of Agasha Dag and Logathavuld.

The warm liquor felt soothing as it passed down Vezely's throat; a welcomed means to relax after a week of hard travel. Vezely had reestablished her tolerance for alcohol since returning to militia life, where too often a meeting was followed by obligatory drinking and a lack of coin was no longer a deterrent in indulging.

"I'm quite looking forward to a change in scenery again," Samsara reclined back slightly after taking another sip. Despite the hierarchy that existed between the two women, they did interact informally when off duty.

Vezely cocked one eyebrow up, "Is it the scenery change or a change in sleeping arrangements?"

Samsara laughed, "I admit to again desiring a warm bed as summer passes into fall."

Vezely smirked slightly, for she knew Samsara partnered herself with Kor and that their relationship started the last time they visited the outposts.

Samsara then added still amused, "A woman has her needs." And Vez lifted her glass and then drank more in agreement. After mirroring her, and proceeding to refill Vezely's cup and her own with more wine, Samsara indulged her curiosity, "And how about the general? For one in your position, admirers are not in short supply and ones bed would never need to be cold."

"I prefer to kill my men than straddle them," Vez replied sarcastically; these assumptions were still common amongst lower ranked officials she realized, when in reality many leaders had little time for such frivolity.

"Not men then, women perhaps?" she proceeded to ask, but Vez shook her head followed by a curious stare to show she was wondering her reasons for this interrogation. Samsara then realized a different possibility, though finding it the least probable, "It would not be a preference for your own kin?"

Vez smirked through some discomfort and then turned over her cup on the table, alerting her partner that she had enough to drink for the evening, "I think I will retire instead of continuing this conversation."

"I am right!" Samsara spoke with awe for having figured out a mystery to her, "I would not have assumed, seeing as you do not dwell with them."

Vez breathed in deeply, thinking she should provide partial answers to her assumptions, "I have not dwelled with Elves since I was a child. But I have shared my bed with men in the past."

"But no longer?" Samsara wondered, closely observing her reaction.

"No longer," Vez stated while appearing unfazed and immediately afterwards rose to her feet. Samsara tilted her head down respectfully, taking the cues that she had received all the information her general would allow her for that night; though it only furthered her curiosity.

* * *

The first day at the main outpost in Agasha Dag was fruitful, as Vezely and Kor held council on the necessary amassing of troops and strategies for possible future attacks from their eastern neighbors.

"...We are to remain a defense force," Vez reminded Kor with her back turned to him as she momentarily admired the brush work on a scroll painting which hung on the wall.

Kor replied smugly, "You mean until they attack. I am surprised the council did not consider the takeover of the western outpost an act of war."

"They did," Vez confirmed after turning around, causing Kor some confusion, "But I swayed them from declaring it. I wanted to give us more time."

Kor considered this further, realizing another part of her strategy, "And to go against their expectations."

Vez nodded, though her demeanor displayed some uncertainty in her actions, "An attempt to stay one step ahead of them."

"Then perhaps we should not be upping our ranks at the obvious outposts," Kor reasoned, "For is that not what they expect?"

"I have sent word to the weakest of our posts in the southlands," Vez added, "And intend to swell ranks there in due time. But your posts are too valuable to neglect and I do not trust the leaders of Agasha Dag."

"They are rather chummy with the neighbors," Kor shared his annoyance, "But for them to shift alliance, it would be economic suicide."

"Indeed," Vez rejoined, stepping over to the table where several maps were laid out, "And even more so after their neighbor's failed attempt to break the Coalition's trade relations with the West."

Kor wondered with a smirk, "It seems you are suggesting Agasha Dag backed this coup?"

Vez shrugged, "That I cannot say for certain."

"Well," Kor laughed, for he was unconcerned one way or another, "It's a good thing a Variag runs these posts for the Coalition. Agasha Dag better not test me."

Vez smirked, amused that her old friend was characteristically being his mirthful self despite the tension growing in the lands around him. She then added, "Samsara will assist you here as I travel south to tend to these posts and hopefully hold council with the Variags. The Captain would hear me out," referring to the man they left Minas Tirith with; though he was no longer Captain but General of the reformed Variag forces.

"Khand will place themselves on standby as usual," Kor remarked in a huff, knowing his kin were not quick to pledge allegiance to any side. And though he would not admit it, he was grateful to hear Samsara would be staying longer.

* * *

That evening Vezely stood alone on top of the rampart, staring out at a now clouded sky. She rested her elbows on the top of the cold stone wall and mindlessly her thumb turned the silver ring around its place on her finger.

She heard Remi's footsteps before he appeared and the man positioned himself next to her casually, "Figured I'd find you here."

"I've become predictable," she replied dryly, though a small smile stretched across her face. She always appreciated Remi's frankness with admitting his intentions; most men would not.

Remi leaned his back against the wall next to her, "Aye, you have. You never rest, and if starlight presents itself, you are staring up at it." Upon hearing this, Vez quietly reprimanded herself for indeed becoming boringly predictable. He added slyly, "I promise not to alert anyone to this, of course. You must remain mysterious to all others."

She glared at him from the corner of her eye, "But not to you?"

Remi crossed his arms, "I have known you for a long enough time and before you became the stone cold general everyone fears."

"I can say the same about you," Vez turned towards him, "Before you held the respectable title of captain and were the divinator who betrayed those who put trust in you."

He placed a hand over his heart, saying feigned, "You wound me with your words."

Vez shook her head at his jest and turned back to peer over the ledge into the darkened landscape, "We are both not who we were," she stated calmly a moment later.

Remi copied her stance, "Our titles have changed, this is true, but between us, not much else has changed."

"And would you have it changed?" she asked narrowing her eyes.

"You know what I would have," Remi added sincerely while looking at the side of her face; his own eyes not hiding the despair this desire caused him.

Vez turned to him, but her eyes were kind rather than condescending, "I know, and that I could convince you of its hopelessness. You need to move past it." She then placed a hand on his forearm, squeezing it lightly before deciding to leave his side.

"You would spend these years without affection for a slim chance of returning West to the one you left?" He called to her back, and she halted her steps.

Turning her head to the side, Vez explained carefully, "I am an Elf, Remi. I remain bound to this world until its end. Whether or not I return hither in your lifetime, time concerns me not as it should concern you."

Remi never did let go of his desire, and in the following years it would turn more to scorn as the wars raged around him.

* * *

Surprised, Samsara lifted her head from Kor's bare chest. Starring at him wide eyed she questioned what he told her, "Betrothed?"

"You have seen the silver ring she wears. It is pure silver, worth more than this post's entire armory," Kor explained further, after she expressed being curious about the general's love life.

"How do you know this?" Samsara asked him skeptically.

"I know my metals well enough, so I asked," Kor stated forthrightly, not thinking it strange to have done so.

"And she just told you she was betrothed?" she questioned further, still not believing him.

"She said she was partnered with one of her kin in the West and planned to return to him someday," then he added while laughing, "It explains her avoidance of Remi, does it not?"

Samsara narrowed her eyes finally realizing, "Ah, so those two are not involved."

"Much to the man's discontent," Kor remarked amused by the continual plight of his captain. He liked Remi, but found his infatuation for the General one of his major character flaws.

Samsara scrunched her nose slightly, and as she rolled onto her back and starred up at the ceiling she remarked, "Elves are strange creatures. Even in prolonged absences and with a choice of worthy lovers they would choose to remain bound to one."

Kor got up from the bed to pour them some wine, "Is it so strange for an immortal?" He asked, handing her a filled glass, "Could you imagine being around all your past scorned lovers forever? That is just asking for trouble!"

* * *

The war started the following winter when the People of the Dark Lands invaded a city in south. It would begin a game of tug of war. Towns, fortifications, and states were continuously sacked, captured, destroyed, and traded as The People of the Darks Lands curiously refused to put their full logistical strength and manpower into maintaining a lengthy campaign far from their homeland. But unfortunately they did make conquests beyond their borders; the first of which was the state of Uslug in the southeast. The leaders of the Reunited Easterling Coalition desired to focus on maintaining key economic states, and being far from rivers and parse of natural resources, Uslug was not worth the effort to reclaim. Others would similarly fall, and then tensions with the province of Agasha Dag would reach a breaking point.

Agasha Dag broke from the Coalition five years later, and when joined with the Dark Lands, it provided them the strength and manpower for a full invasion.

Samsara, who had remained alongside Kor in Agasha Dag, regrouped with Vezely at the main post in Logathavuld. She fled with as many of her troops as were willing to tempt it; preferring to relinquish their post rather than turn against their allegiance to the Coalition.

"...They killed him and in the way that they deem most fit," Samsara told Vez of Kor's sacrificial death through strained eyes. The captain appeared uncharacteristically weak in that moment as she spoke of her partner, and being in the privacy of Vezely's office, she did not hide her emotions. "He was not even given the choice of turning sides, for they knew well where his allegiance lied."

A deep pain hit Vez in her gut as she came to grips with the passing of her comrade. She cupped Samsara's forearm and looked upon her consolingly in silence as she continued to speak.

"I barely made it out myself. I would have stayed and gladly joined his fate, if not for Kor's insistence..." she hesitated to continue and her eyes looked upon Vezely with apprehension, "He said I could trust you with this, that you would help me." Vez returned an uncomfortable gaze as she proceeded, "I am carrying Kor's child."

Dumbfounded, Vezely backed away from her. It was against regulation to conceive during a two year commitment to the force, while women officers like Samsara who swore lifelong commitments, took a vow to forgo childbirth, and to end pregnancies after their onset. If they chose not to do this, they would be discharged dishonorably, which for Easterlings meant they would be put to death. It was no less severe a crime than deserting from battle.

"How far along are you?" Vez asked a moment later, her eyes diverted.

"Too far," Samsara replied carefully, knowing it was too late to easily cleanse it, "We want this child, General. We knew the consequences, but..."

"But you did not respect them," Vez interrupted slightly harsh, feeling incredibly uncomfortable with the position she was now placed in. Samsara quickly straightened her posture as if awaiting reprimand from her commanding officer. And Vez should have given it to her; first dishonorably stripping her of her title in public and then relaying the sentence of death for breaking her vow. Looking upon her, Vez felt a mixture of disdain and unease, but she also felt something else inside her. And with that feeling, she realized she would go against all reason and do what she thought she could not. "I will help you."


	49. A Little Hope among the Ruins

_[18th year of the Fourth Age; 20 years after Vezely left Minas Tirith...]_

Thranduil's halls had grown evermore quiet over the passing years as the many that once dwelled there for protection either moved back into the surrounding forest or followed in the footsteps of their kin who left before them; sailing West to the Undying Lands. Now completely free from Shadow and the damage done by the great fire in the War of the Ring only a memory, Eryn Lasgalen's beauty had become unparalleled to what Legolas could recall in his long life. He would travel there on occasion to visit his father and his Woodland kin, finding the comforts of home soothing as time passed and his heart felt stretched.

"...I would offer you Dorwinion, but trade has been slow as of late," Thranduil apologized as he handed his son who just arrived that morning, a fluted crystal glass of white wine.

Legolas tilted his head at this comment, wondering, "Slow?"

Not expecting this reaction, Thranduil put his glass down instead of drinking, "Well, halted is the appropriate term. I thought you would know more on this matter than I."

"There is war in Rhun," Legolas stated seemingly unconcerned with a deep breath, "I know little else."

Thranduil stared at him for a moment, curious of his ongoing thoughts. "It has disrupted trade," he then stated forthrightly, "The men of Dale said there has been no shipment this season or last, while in the past years their shipments have dwindled at ever increasing percentages. Merchants speak of the breaking of the Easterlings into two halves."

"Two halves?" Legolas repeated pensively, his eyes inadvertently going to the silver ring on his finger as he internalized his own separation.

Thranduil followed his son's eyes, and sensed some fragile emotions, "You truly have heard nothing?" He ask carefully to confirm, honestly surprised for he thought he would have had more communication than just one single letter now ten years outdated.

Legolas's shifted uncomfortably and drank a third of his wine before answering, "And the years continue to pass," he stated slightly depressed, "I do not even know if she is yet of this world."

Tilting his chin up slightly, Thranduil queried, "You are growing doubts on her return?"

"In her return, and in my staying," though these words leapt from his mouth with some uncertainty. He looked upon his father, "When mother left these shores, she said she felt torn between wanting to stay with those she loves or to leave."

"The desire to sail to the Undying Lands is as an itch one can never scratch. It pained her to leave, but in time, it pained her more to stay. I encouraged her to go and I would encourage you to leave also," Thranduil paused allowing him to speak.

"I have promised," Legolas rejoined firmly, "I am not ready to abandon my friends."

"And your betrothed?" Thranduil cocked an eyebrow, wondering about the omission.

Legolas looked again at his ring, "She will return and sail with me. I still hold onto that hope."

"Of course you do," Thranduil spoke plainly, though he did not desire to question him and instead offered some hope of information. "Glorfindel recently departed for Rhun, sent by Cirdan to inform the Avari that soon the last ships will sail from the Grey Havens. He plans to offer escort from those war torn lands for those that might now be willing to leave. Perhaps when he returns he will provide you more information on the situation there..."

* * *

_[4 years earlier... 14th year of the Fourth Age; 16 years after Vezely left Minas Tirith... ]_

It was risky allowing Samsara to keep her child, and now, lying to personally escort her away to her small village to secretly have her baby only made Vezely more wary of her decision. Samsara did not desire to relinquish her position, but when she could no longer hide her bulging stomach under cloaks, it was necessary for her to leave. The Reunited Easterling Coalition had just retaken the city of Bakuhl on the northward borders of Lagathavuld and Agasha Dag. It was a decisive victory in the beginning of the Rhunic Civil War. They were deep in rebuilding their defenses when Vezely and Samsara left, putting Olani, who also knew of the child, in charge of operations.

Samsara's village was destroyed by the People of the Dark Lands' armies when they retreated from the battle of Erebor at the end of the War of the Ring. Those that survived rebuilt it and both Samsara believed it would be the best place for her to have her child.

Samsara's eyes wavered on the fire Vez tended before her as they rested during their journey, contemplating her predicament. "You never asked why," she said as if suddenly realizing it strange, "You never asked why Kor and I wanted this child." Vezely looked up at her, not expecting what she would say. Instead, Samsara shook her head at the thought of continuing, "You would not understand."

Vez diverted her eyes, debating whether to speak her offense to this assumption. "Then explain," she told her firmly, poking the fire viciously with a stick, causing sparks to fly up. "Why did you and Kor defy orders, and risk your life to bring a child into this war torn world?"

"We have only lived in a war torn world," Samsara replied defensively, "And we have survived in it longer than most. Neither of us have families. Can you blame us for wanting to make our own?"

Vez looked at her stoically, but turned her gaze back to the fire."No," but then she added sternly, "But as officers, you took an oath".

"See," she scoffed slightly, "What would an Elf know. You are immortal. Separation and loss are just words to you."

Vez closed her eyes feeling pained by this assertion, "They are not," she looked up at her wearily, "I know separation and loss. I have faced both and fear both still."

Samsara glared upon her disbelievingly, "If this is true, you do not show it. You act as if you care not."

"Am I not helping you?" Vez asked annoyed, glaring at her.

Samsara's mouth gaped open to argue, but she looked away, realizing she overstepped, "Forgive me."

"There is nothing to forgive," Vezely replied quickly, understanding Samsara was currently in a rough spot, and full of uncertainty since the child's birth was close at hand and she would be left alone to the challenge of motherhood. Vez kept her eyes on the sputtering fire, as light flecks of snow started to fall on top of it and them, "I am not upfront about my past. But I once experienced the love you spoke of having with Kor, and there is a possibility that I can never have it again. Elves are immortal, this is true, but we are also beholden to our actions during this time. And mine...well, mine are damning. I should not blame you for desiring a future that transcends the past, for I desire the same." Vez stood up and removed her fur lined cloak. Draping it around Samsara's shoulders, she left saying, "Dawn is in two hours. Get some rest."

At dusk, they rode through the mountain pass which was the quickest route to the small village. Both women halted their horses and gripped their swords' hilts, sensing they would soon come upon company. Twelve soldiers clad in the raiment of their enemy were camped there, huddling around two fires to keep warm from the cold. They scrambled to their feet and formed a line of defense.

"Lose your way?" Vez asked them smugly, "Shouldn't you be retreating east with the rest of the traitors?"

"We are right where we are supposed to be General Vezely," the leader of their group pulled his scimitar from his scabbard.

"You know my name, now tell me who sent you," Vez asked, tilting her chin up slightly.

He flicked his sword into his other hand gracefully; two against twelve odds were certainly in his favor and it being the enemy's general, he felt rather smug, "And why would we tell you that?"

Vez smirked, pulling her own sword, "So I can send them my regards for your deaths."

"Attack!" the man yelled to his men, sending them charging in front of him. Samsara drew her weapon, and Vez prompted Léofara to rear up and hoof the first warrior in the chest; she charged the horse forward and sliced two men down before jumping from the saddle to engage them on the ground, desiring to draw them away from Samsara.

Samsara held her own on the saddle as Vez sliced them down quickly, throwing one of her sai into the back of one charging her friend before fighting their leader. She cut off his sword hand, sending down to his knees in shock.

She poked her sword's tip under his chin and tipped it up to engage his eyes, "Who sent you?"

He held his bleeding wrist, trying to uphold his strength, "Just kill me, white fiend."

"General!" Samsara cried, her horse shuffling under her, "There are more coming!"

Vez didn't hesitate to cut the man's head off before jumping back on her horse, and the two women turned around and raced back from where they entered, riding hard into a nearby forest and stopping when they were sure they were off anyone's trail.

Vez turned her horse towards Samsara, "Who did you tell? Who else knew about this plan of yours?" she yelled at her angrily, believing the previous encounter was a trap.

"No one other than Kor and Olani knew," Samsara replied out of breath, her eyes searching, "Wait," she halted her words and her gaze, her mind taking her back, "Remi. He overheard us."

"Remi?" the man's name dripped like poison from Vez's lips. Remi had become lieutenant general of Agasha Dag's armies when they switched sides; taking the place and power of Kor.

"He overheard Kor and I speaking at the beginning of my pregnancy. I said I could have my child in my village. He must have sent the soldiers here, knowing it was time," Samsara spoke warily.

"Killing the captain of the enemy's army would gain him some more respect," Vez gritted her teeth, wishing now more than ever she killed the man in the past.

"General," suddenly Samsara keeled over on her saddle, "The baby. It's coming."

"Now?" Vez replied shocked, jerking back on her horse's reins.

"Now!" Samsara yelled at her, hunching forward farther, prompting Vez to leap from her horse to assist her down.

"...It's a girl," Vez told her while handing the screaming child into her arms.

"Cyane," Samsara declared happily the name she decided on with Kor, taking her daughter and holding her close in an embrace as joyful tears clouded her eyes, "Her name is Cyane."

Cyane was the word for "hope" in Easterling. Observing the love between mother and child, Vezely found herself curious of the bond formed between them, and her thoughts shifted back uncomfortably to her own mother whom she had not thought of in some time. Moving to her feet, she told her quietly, "I'll get a fire going," though Samsara was not listening as she was taken by her child.

Vez would lead Samsara and the baby to a secluded village in the mountains west of there. Vezely stayed there once, long ago when she returned from the deserts of Rhun, when she was yet under the care of the Blue Wizards. Once it was a safe house for resistance members, and today it remained a place for weary travelers desiring to get lost or start over. It was plan B, and one that Vezely told no one about. Samsara would raise her child quietly, regrouping with Vezely on occasion to assist in sieges, while leaving her child with extremely well-paid caretakers and tutors. Samsara would not stop fighting for Rhun's peace, for the sake of her daughter's future.

* * *

_[22nd year of the Fourth Age; 24 years after Vezely left Minas Tirith... ]_

For eight years the lands surrounding the Sea of Rhun were ravaged by warfare. Half of Agasha Dag had been claimed by the Reunited Easterling Coalition, and they had their eyes set on continuing their invasion eastward. The towns that were to be resettled, however, had changed drastically in the past years. The People of the Dark Lands not only spread their power into Agasha Dag, but their religion, and the defeated remained faithful to Melkor. In such times, these dark cults offered the masses hope amidst the ruin. If religion is the opium of the masses, the People of the Dark Lands also had extra opiates to accompany it. The black market for the drug had become unruly, causing headaches for those in charge. Yet there was little they could do to stop it.

"Ironic that as our trade fails, our enemy's trade thrives," Samsara stated annoyed to Vezely after a meeting of leaders during which they discussed the army's finances.

"They now desire that I decrease rations," she replied scathingly, "The only reason they still have their lands is because of our men, and now they want to starve them." Funding to keep their armies going eastward to destroy the Dark Lands was more difficult to procure than for their enemy. Rather than keep her blood boiling and having noted some awkwardness from Samsara since she returned from her off time with her daughter, Vez changed the subject, "There is something you have wanted to ask me all week. What is it?"

Samsara straightened her posture, "It pertains to my daughter. She is now eight, almost old enough to begin an apprenticeship with the militia."

"Almost," Vez replied pacing away from her towards the maps table, "And you desire for her to be closer to this war?"

Samsara followed her moving form, saying carefully, "We are winning, General. She would not be in the war, just, as your squire I could at least have her close and forgo my long trips."

Vez smiled slightly at the care Samsara put into her plea; at least she was upfront about it having to be Vezely's decision to allow her daughter these privileges. "When she is ten, I promise to make her my squire. Eight is too young still."

Samsara bit her tongue, knowing this was more than she could have hoped.

* * *

_[Two years later... 24th year of the Fourth Age; 26 years after Vezely left Minas Tirith... ]_

"...I've never seen a horse like this," the tall, black haired youth spoke in awe as she brushed Léofara, having just started her job as the general's squire.

"She is from the West," Vezely told her, watching her motions closely.

"And that is where you're from?" Cyane asked unabashedly, carefully continuing her chore.

"That I am," Vez replied, now looking curiously upon the precocious child's face seeing there characteristics of both Kor and Samsara.

"I know you're an Elf," she told her, speaking brightly, "You just hide your ears, but I can tell."

"Oh, you can?" Vez smirked slightly, noting the child had inherited her father's brazenness.

She nodded. "You are too tall and too pale to be an Easterling," she declared astutely, "It makes sense that you have a horse from the West."

"But I'm afraid Léofara is getting too old to be my battle horse anymore," Vez told her calmly, walking around the horse to stand aside the youth.

Cyane looked at the horse sorrowful, suspecting she might be put down, "But she is still a good horse," she tried to sound optimistic.

"That she is, the very best horse," Vez replied stroking the bridge of Léofara's nose while looking upon her worried face, "That is why she will be your horse."

"My horse?" the child repeated, staring at her wide eyed. "My own horse?"

"You will need to take care of her along with my other horse. Can you handle being tasked with both?" she glared at her skeptically.

Cyane nodded several times, her voice stalled being in awe of the gift, "Yes, of course I can," she managed to say.

Vez then patted her beloved horse and spoke to her in Elvish, "You are retiring from war old friend, but your role is no less important."

"She understands you?" Cyane asked in wonder, having watched the interaction curiously.

"She does," Vez replied smiling slightly.

"Then how will I talk to her?" she asked concerned.

"You can talk to her as we are talking now," Vezely replied, finding the question odd.

"You should teach me this language," Cyane requested her assuredly, "So I can talk to her like you do."

"Cyane!" Samsara had been minding the conversation out of sight, but felt her daughter was being rude and stepped in. "Apologies, General. She has her father's impudence."

Vez smiled slightly, "And that is something I appreciated about Kor," she then told Cyane carefully, "I will teach you this language Cyane, but being my squire comes first..."

After leaving the youth in the stables, Samsara asked Vezely worried, "You do not need to give her your prize horse."

Trying to play off the kind deed and the pleasant feeling that giving such a gift to the child provided her, Vez replied nonchalantly, "No, I do not. Nor do I want my horse to go riderless."

* * *

Vezely marched down a line of prisoners of war, bound together in a chain gang and soon to be sent to the mines. They had just easily overtaken another city in Agasha Dag, pushing their way ever further eastward towards the People of the Dark Lands.

"General," Olani rushed up to her side, and after greeting her properly, "There is something you must see."

Captain Olani led Vezely to the city's healing houses, but instead of finding wounded warriors, it was filled with the sick. Their faces and shirt collars were stained in coughed up blood, their eyes yellowed, their breath faltering.

"What is wrong with them?" her eyes slowly scanned the filled beds throughout.

"We do not know," Olani replied concerned, "But there's more." She then led the general to a back room where there were several more bodies, but all deceased and apparently from the same causes inflicting those they just passed though.

 _Plague._ The terrifying word crossed everyone's mind, for Rhun was no stranger to mass outbreaks. Vezely could see the fear in her warrior's eyes; they had entered a village infested with a disease their people couldn't cure and they did not know if they could either.

"Burn it," Vezely then commanded them, "Burn all of it."

"And those alive?" Olani asked, assuming extra orders.

"They won't be for long," she told them before leaving the death rooms.

* * *

_[Two years later... 26th year of the Fourth Age; 28 years after Vezely left Minas Tirith... ]_

The Great Plague disrupted the Rhunic Civil Wars. It radiated out from the Sea of Rhun into villages and homesteads, and inevitably through the militia. One year had passed and one-third of the Reunited Easterling Coalition had fallen to the sickness, weakening their hold in Agasha Dag and providing the People of the Dark Lands ample leeway to restart their invasion West.

The leaders of the Reunited Easterling Coalition issued a temporary cessation in the war, of which the leaders of Agasha Dag quickly agreed, for they were hit just as hard by the disease. Encouraged by Agasha Dag, the People of the Dark Lands also signed the cessation, but being further from the plague's grip, their militia numbers stayed strong and they used the cessation as a means to practice a different strategy. Instead of targeting the most fertile lands and rich cities closer to the Sea of Rhun, they circled far around it and began destroying outlying towns and villages.

As soon as the plague began to spread, Samsara sent Cyane back to the village where she was raised in hopes that the disease would not reach her there, but now the fear turned to their enemy getting there first.

"...General, those mountains," Samsara started worriedly; her eyes appeared tired and she did not look well.

"They are where Cyane is," Vez finished her comrade's sentence equally concerned; both had just been given this new information on the Dark Lands' assaults. "I know what you would ask Samsara, but I cannot simply uproot our forces and risk our hold on our main assets to protect a few small villages up north."

Samsara gritted her teeth, "Then I will go and get my daughter out before it's too late," she pivoted to leave.

"Wait," Vez called determined to not let her go alone, causing Samsara to stop. "We will take the cavalry and together get your daughter out..."

They rode north, keeping well ahead and out of sight of the Dark Lands' armies. And while the mission was Cyane, Vezely hoped to save the whole village from destruction. "Your village will soon be under attack," she told the townsfolk after entering, "You have one hour to gather your belongings and you will leave by our escort to the main post..."

Not all the villagers desired to leave their homes, however; many believed that by going closer to the Sea of Rhun they would only find death by disease and they rather pander to the enemy. About half hurriedly gathered their supplies and prepared to flee.

A day into their slow journey and Vezely's scouts returned with a small gift in tow - two men clad in the raiment of the Dark Lands' militia, both gagged and hooded, their hands bound, and legs tethered to their horses.

"...We captured them north of the great river," the scout told her, "They are covering a wider range than expected. I do not believe our trail has gone unnoticed by others in their company..."

There was little time to spare. Vezely glanced south, realizing they were not far away from Ester Ridge, where her armies under Sauron decimated an entire village, women and children, of its inhabitants. Just beyond there was the edge of the deep forests of Dorwinion, a place she would not dare to enter in the past. Suddenly, as if a breeze came up from below, Lord Glorfindel's parting words at Minas Tirith passed through her mind, _"If you find yourself in need near territories you would not before enter, there you would find aid and comfort."_

Samsara immediately questioned the decision to go into Dorwinion uncomfortably, "General, that is yet Elf territory. They suffer no one to pass."

"We have no choice, we will not be able to outrun our enemies, nor can we engage them in open combat," Vez kicked her horse forward further showing her decision stood, "Bring the prisoners," she turned her head to her two scouts who held the reins of the horses which held the hooded figures, "We will question them soon."

The shadows of the forests cooled the weary travelers who were feeling fatigued from the noonday sun. Slowly they crept ever farther into the dense wood, trekking over several streams and glens. The villagers whispered their fears as they walked, for legends spoke of those that entered were never to be seen again. Elves were mistrusted in Rhun, some believing them sorcerers, others demons. They had lived secluded in forest enclaves and kept their borders well guarded, and thus their interactions with men were extremely rare allowing such myths to grow.

Vez noted the soft footfalls before others became aware that their company was being watched. The sounds of bowstrings being pulled back caused the cavalry to unsheathe their swords, expecting an attack.

"Hold!" Vezely called out to them, holding her sword hand up and galloping her horse slightly forward, "Keep your weapons sheathed!" She then switched her tongue to Elvish, calling out to those hidden in shadow, _"We humbly ask your pardon for trespassing on your lands! We are seeking respite from pursuit of our enemies!"_

One whose garb appeared as if he was a captain of their guard descended from a thicket of trees in front of them, protected by several archers who had their arrows poised on their bowstrings awaiting orders.

 _"Respite from one enemy and into the grasp of another,"_ the green clad Elf replied narrowing his eyes on her, _"Since when does an Easterling speak our tongue and come seeking peace and not war."_

Vezely untied the black headband she always wore around her ears, revealing her race and speaking her title, _"My name is Vezely. I am General of the Reunited Easterling Coalition and an Elf of the Woodland Realm."_

The Elf did not lighten his glare as he gave her tidings, _"Vezely, we have been expecting you."_


	50. Elves, Easterlings, and Ever Eastward

Vezely stared curiously at the Dowinion Elf captain a moment longer before replying. His glare remained equally intense. They had never met, but there existed an unspoken tension between them. Perhaps the fact that she was "expected" as he just declared was knowledge that did not please him. _"Expected?"_ she finally interrogated, _"And how would I have been expected?"_

 _"By me,"_ the golden-haired, legendary Elf lord she met only briefly in Minas Tirith, descended from behind the Elven guards who had finally dropped their bows. He was clad in traveling attire though his raiment marked him hierarchically above the others in the company. _"We meet again, child of Eluréd,"_ he then greeted her in Elvish style, bringing the palm of his right hand to his chest and slowly extending it outward.

 _"Lord Glorfindel,"_ Vezely hid her surprise as she greeted him the Easterling way, placing her right fist to her chest and tilting her head down. While she desired to ask what brought him this far east, she switched her concern back to her people. _"My company and the civilians we are escorting request unhindered passage through these forests."_

 _"Due to being pursued?"_ he raised his eyebrows, desiring to press her on their purpose; having heard her mention enemies to the Captain prior. His eyes noticeably shifted to the two hooded prisoners they had bound on the back of horses.

 _"War yet rages in Rhun, Glorfindel,"_ she replied cocking one eyebrow of her own, _"Our enemy has invaded north of here. The civilians are from a settlement on their path of destruction. We would engage them in battle but our numbers are too few. These forests are our only chance of survival."_

 _"It is well that you entered them then. It will soon be nightfall. Your people should rest the evening and the guard can provide escort to the southern borders after dawn."_ Stepping to the side, his outstretched hand beckoned them to follow; despite having more questions he decided to postpone them for later.

 _"Gratitude,"_ she again pressed her fist to her chest, and tilted her head down. Afterwards she addressed her troops who had waited patiently, albeit uncomfortably as the Elves conversed in unknown tongue. "...We will rest the night and continue south come morning..." Despite her reassurance, however, the company's nerves remained; these forests and their inhabitants were wholly misunderstood and feared by most in Rhun.

Samsara quietly voiced this concern to Vezely after they dismounted their horses in order to follow the guards on foot. "Are you sure they can be trusted?"

"Yes, our stay warrants no worry for them or for us," Vez returned assuredly as Cyane, quickly re-acclimating to being a squire, took her horse's reins.

Samsara released a huff of breath instead of mouthing a rebuke; trust was not an easy thing to ask an Easterling of Elves. Her eyes shifted to the tall, golden-haired Elf Vezely exchanged words with as he walked away, "You are acquainted with that one?"

"Somewhat," she replied calmly, her eyes also falling on the back of Glorfindel's flowing green cloak, "He is of well-repute among my race. Considered noble and wise, and some would even say blessed by the Valar. He holds no mal intent towards me or our company." Then noting the dark circles under her eyes, she cupped her shoulder, hoping to reassure her, "Rest tonight, Samsara. Your daughter is safe now. We will all be on our way to the main outpost come tomorrow." She assumed she had not slept well since hearing of the Dark Lands' planned invasion.

The Elves led the group to the outskirts of their guard's base camp, not desiring to lead them any nearer to their main settlement for fear of a return of their armies. The Elves in Rhun remained secluded for good reasons. To them, Easterlings cared for nothing but war and profit, and they would sooner kill them and destroy their forests than befriend them.

Vez bid her soldiers to build a temporary camp and to make sure the villagers were comfortable with provisions. They were all surprised when their Elvish hosts brought out food and drink for them, and though unnecessary, the gesture of goodwill calmed some of their anxiety.

Being attuned to the suffering of others, Glorfindel and the Elves watched uncomfortably as soldiers rough handled the two prisoners they were transporting; knocking them off the horses they were tethered to and then throwing them against and binding them to separate trees.

Vezely took her flask and knelt next to one of them, removing his hood to reveal a disheveled face. The young man squinted at her, internally trying to maintain what minimal strength he had in order to save face as she loosened his gag from his mouth. She smiled serenely, bringing the flask close to his lips, and he intuitively opened them, desiring to receive whatever liquid it contained to quench his parched mouth. But Vezely rerouted the flask to her own lips and drank, smirking as she replaced the lid on top. "Thirsty?" she asked him smugly; the man knew she was toying with him. "You can drink your fill in exchange for information on your people's plans in the north."

"I would rather spit in your face, if I could spit," he returned sternly. Scouts were among the most steadfast of warriors since they were most at risk of being captured by the enemy; thus they were hard to break.

"Never simple, is it?" She remarked in annoyed amusement while looking at the lieutenant who stood nearby, "Keep him gagged. We'll see how long he wants to fast."

Vezely knew neither of the captured scouts would talk for the sake of water or food. It would require torture, but she would not perform such acts in the presence of Elves. Thus she would have to wait until they were far from the forests of Dorwinion to get the information she desired.

Cyane, who was leading the general's new horse, stopped aside Glorfindel, who stood silently watching Vezely's interaction with the prisoners. Unabashed, the youth engaged him in Elvish, " _'Quel undome_." (Good evening.)

" _'Quel undome_ ," he returned in Elvish with a curious smile looking down at her; the youth's ability to speak his tongue was most certainly unexpected. _"What is your name?"_ he then asked her.

 _"My name is Cyane, I am squire of the general,"_ she replied fluently.

_"And how is it you speak Elvish, Cyane?"_

_"The general teaches me,"_ she returned proudly, " _Do you speak Easterling?"_

 _"Some,"_ Glorfindel confided humbly.

"Squire!" Samsara strictly called to her daughter, wary of the conversation and of her skirting duties, "Take the horse to be fed."

"Aye commander," she returned promptly, prepared to follow orders. She then added to Glorfindel with a smile, _"Perhaps we can talk later, my lord."_

Nodding to her request, Glorfindel responded kindly, _"Rest well, young one."_ Watching the youth pass, he further contemplated what made her fascinating - she was a squire yet wore civilian clothes; she bore resemblance to the second in command making him believe they had familial relations; and there was an uncanny brightness about her, the likes of which he didn't often find among the race of men.

Leaving others in charge, Vezely followed Glorfindel to hold council, remarking along the way, "You are rather far from Imladris."

He turned his head, smiling at her slightly, "That I am. I have traveled as far as the Orocani Mountains seeking Elves who may desire leave from these shores and escort to the Grey Havens," he revealed freely, not holding his mission necessary to keep secret. "Currently I am on a brief stop in these woods before continuing the journey with my followers westward, first to Eryn Lasgalen before onto Lindon."

Vezely had not heard the name of the re-christened Mirkwood for some time, making her suddenly more aware that she stood in a forest of Elves who lived not unlike her during her childhood in the Woodland Realm. She had not even taken in the feel of the forests since entering, her mind having only been set on leading her people to safety. Thinking of Mirkwood made her inevitably think of the forests of Ithilien, and the happiness she briefly experienced there with Legolas 28 years ago. The memories however, made her more uncomfortable of the impending conversation. Already 18 years had passed since she had met with Eomer and Aragorn in Rhovanion, and now, admittedly she felt even further disconnected from the West. The years of war and the plague had also led her to push aside hope in a future where she could return. Practicing such mental escapism was selfish, she thought, especially for someone who had no personal fear of getting sick while those around her lived like they were walking on eggshells. Glorfindel was extraordinarily perceptive; she remembered this as she followed him. He would undoubtedly interrogate her, making her wary of saying too much.

They walked up a short flight of steps to a flet perched low in the trees, giving them a full view of the camp below. Once up top, Glorfindel turned towards her, "I had not expected to be hindered by both civil war and a plague of such devastation."

"The war was unavoidable," Vez crossed her arms as she turned her eyes to the camp below, "For ten years peace was maintained, but the People of the Dark Lands will not halt their desire for an empire. And they now use our weakened state to further their intentions."

"By invading north of here?" Glorfindel returned to the reason of this shortcut through Dorwinion, "I am curious, why would a general and her second in command risk confrontation with such a small company all in order to aid this one village?"

Vez narrowed her eyes slightly, spying Cyane from afar, "Part of it is personal."

"One that perhaps pertains to your squire?" Glorfindel asked but spoke knowingly, both noting her gaze and before having picked up on the youth partaking in militia chores while wearing civilian attire.

Vez smirked slightly. "You remain perceptive. She is the daughter of my second in command," though Vez forwent details on the troubling aspects this infringement of contract involved. "She was the impetus, but with affirmation of these attacks, the Coalition can call an end to this farce of a cessation and retaliate."

"More war?" Glorfindel returned carefully.

"Unfortunately," Vezely continued to stare out pensively, watching the Elves bring out more food and water to the wary though weary villagers. Her tone displayed her concern, "We were winning, Glorfindel, but this sickness. I have watched a third of my legions fall to an enemy we cannot fight."

"It will run its course and in time it will end," Glorfindel told her reassuringly.

Vezely breathed in deeply; all plagues eventually ended, but the cost of this one had already been too great. "And in that time, if we are not also overcome by our enemies," she looked at him through strained eyes, "You once said I could ride as leader into Rhun, but I must leave it in the hands of the Second Born and fade also."

"That I did," he replied staring back at her curiously, remembering the conversation at the fountain in Minas Tirith's guest house. "Yet you remain leader."

"I cannot abandon this fight," she replied defensively.

"I am not saying you should," he rejoined calmly, "You will know when the time is right."

"Will I?" Vez smirked slightly, looking back below, "If it could be when I am standing on a field of victory, knowing that peace is secured." He did not offer a reply to this, and thinking he could not foretell anything else concerning her future, Vezely shifted the conversation, "And how fairs the West? You have been in Rhun some time, but longer still since I have had news."

"Aye, I heard of your meeting with Lord Aragorn and Lord Eomer in Rhovanion. Quite a surprise, indeed. Both the kingdom of Rohan and Gondor have flourished..."

As Glorfindel told her of good tidings, some commotion in the camp below disrupted their exchange, turning their attention and requiring their physical presence.

An Elf had tried to give water to one of the prisoners, but was quickly pushed back by the guisarme of one of the Coalition's guards.

 _"What is the meaning of this?"_ Vezely interrogated the perpetrator in Elvish, while calmly commanding her own guard to lower his scythe.

The Captain of the Elves was already at the scene and intervened, _"You are starving them. We cannot simply turn a blind eye to their suffering."_

 _"They are prisoners and will be fed when I say they can be fed, suffering or not,"_ Vez told him firmly.

 _"You remain a tyrant,"_ he returned boldly, tilting his chin up slightly.

Finding his remark and the way he had acted around her odd since they met, Vez asked pointedly, _"I'm sorry, have we met?"_

 _"No, but we know of you Vezely of the Balchoth,"_ he said, his gaze condescending.

 _"Captain,"_ Glorfindel finally intervened, hoping to provide caution, _"Past grief is not worth present confrontation."_

Vezely held her hand up, telling Glorfindel as if he were one of her guard to halt his desire for civility, _"What past grief do you hold, Captain?"_

 _"We remember Ester Ridge,"_ he told her, his grey eyes stone cold on hers, _"We followed the smoke to the settlements you torched, finding lying within their streets the women and children your soldiers cut down. Infants with their heads having been cracked open against their home's stone walls. Those that survived spoke of Vezely of the Balchoth, the General of Sauron, and now we discover you are general again. Lord Glorfindel assured us you have changed, but to us your name will forever be attached to that which haunts our memories."_

With the reason behind the tension she suspected since their first greeting revealed, Vezely admitted to not being surprised. She would not display any contempt for being branded a tyrant, instead she responded calmly, _"I share your disgust in the deeds which destroyed those towns, but you can continue remembering me as you will. I care not for changing my reputation or my mind on these prisoners."_

He stared at her sternly, surprised by the way she spoke indifferent and detached from this past; remorse was not present, _"If even evoking remembrance persuades you not."_

 _"I cannot change the past Captain, but only work towards a different future._ _And I would not have one in which our enemy rules these lands,"_ Vezely narrowed her eyes on his, _"You think your forests are safe from the People of the Dark Lands? I could easily have invaded here with my legions, and done the same to your folk as I did to Ester Ridge. I would have burnt these forests to the ground without any thought to your suffering, but you're lucky I followed orders and kept north. Our current enemy hates Elves almost as much as Sauron did. If they win, do not expect superstition to keep them away. You are not safe my dear Captain unless we do our job and right now that is handling these prisoners as such. To you it may seem that starvation is cruel, but if it prompts them to offer valuable information on our enemy in exchange for nourishment, is that not preferable to torturing them in other ways?"_

The Elf shifted his gaze from her to Glorfindel, uncomfortable by the truths she spoke - the Dorwinion colony knew war was potentially close at hand and many were considering journeying west to Lindon with Glorfindel because of it. They had avoided war in the past, but perhaps in this new age they could not.

Glorfindel tried to mediate, _"She is partially right Captain, it is the Reunited Easterling Coalition who we should place our hope in for peace in this region. But to overlook suffering, Vezely, that is not in the nature of Elves. If they can at least be given water during their stay, it would suffice. Just water."_

Samsara who had been trying to rest had joined her side, her hand around the hilt of her sword distrusting that the conversation would end peacefully. Vezely then told her what was being discussed, desiring her opinion on the matter. Samsara responded angrily, her eyes narrowed on the Elf Captain, "They have no right to tell us how to handle our prisoners."

"No they do not," Vezely replied quietly, her face stern, "But we have been allotted passage through their forests. If we cause rebuke now..."

Glorfindel waited patiently, deciphering their conversation the best he could, though his mastery of spoken Easterling and its numerous dialects was subpar. From the corner of his eye he saw Cyane retrieving a flask of water and going aside Vezely with it, as if expecting she would be called upon soon.

Samsara also reasoned it would be preferable to be guided to the south by the Elves' goodwill rather than have to lead themselves in the middle of night. Yet before allowing Vezely her response, she spoke her own viewpoint on Rhun-based Elves. Stepping forward toward Glorfindel and the Elf captain, she declared annoyed, "The whole world is suffering but they prefer not to see it. Instead they hide in their forest while we bleed to keep it safe," but she stumbled as she pivoted back towards Vezely; a dizzying spell took over her and she fell with Glorfindel catching her.

"Mother!" Cyane dropped the flask and ran to her side, only to witness her coughing up blood.

Some villagers nearby gasped; seeing the blood, they knew what sickness had befallen her. Glorfindel gently laid her down on the grasses below, as her daughter took a handkerchief from her pocket, putting it to her mother's mouth as she coughed.

Vezely felt momentarily frozen; disbelieving her second in command could be affected by the fatal illness. She locked her widened eyes briefly with Glorfindel who had respectfully stepped aside as Vezely went to kneel beside her, touching her hand to her forehead, finding it hot to the touch. Glorfindel would request the Elf guards to bring a stretcher and have her moved to a nearby flet where there was a comfortable bed to rest in.

Knowing she needed to put aside the disagreement concerning the prisoners for a more pressing matter, Vezely picked up the flask Cyane had dropped and forced it into the Elf captain's chest, telling him, "Just water," and afterwards addressing her own guards in Easterling to also allow the Elves to tend to the prisoners.

Entering the flet they brought Samsara to, she found Glorfindel mixing an herbal tonic, while Cyane buried her face into her mother's chest. "Don't cry child," Samsara told her tiredly, stroking her hair back.

Cyane looked up at her mother, but quickly turned her attention to Glorfindel, speaking to him in Easterling, "Can you save her?"

Glorfindel gave her a pained look as he shook his head, "I can only provide comfort," he replied softly, bringing the tonic over for Samsara to drink. The commander found no need to question the potion or its possible effects at this point.

The liquid was soothing to her throat, and relaxed her muscles, allowing her to breathe and speak easier, "There is no cure Cyane."

"But there has to be," Cyane choked.

She stared at her wistfully, "You are safe, that is what matters." She began coughing again and she slowly retrieved her own handkerchief to cover her mouth, displaying to others that it was already stained in blood.

"For how long have you been like this?" Vez immediately asked, noticeably upset as she looked upon her proud friend who now appeared no different than the multitude of soldiers she had witnessed fall to the disease.

"Three days," Samsara replied in a breath. She had been keeping the blood in her phlegm hidden, not desiring to cause any worry or to slow them down. Her general's sullen demeanor unsettled her, so Samsara spoke again as if the situation was less severe, "I guess I could not fight it." Vez shook her head, painfully smiling at her manner, and finding herself having no ability to reply with any levity. She was not prepared to deal with her impending death. Instead, she took her cold hand in her own, hoping to show reassurance through touch. Samsara's grip tightened, "General. My daughter. Do not abandon her."

"I will not," Vez returned assuredly, "She will remain safe."

With the last of her strength, Samsara's eyes interrogated hers as she spoke; she needed to be certain of the truth of her words before she could accept what would come. The disease took its victims quickly; she had a day at most.

Vezely left the fleet shortly after; her feet quickening beneath her as she raced into the forest's dark depths. She needed space away from the camp and her men; a space where she didn't need to maintain her composure.

Once there, she unsheathed and threw her sai at the trunk of a nearby tree as if slaying a retreating enemy in the backside, afterwards clenching her fists together, desiring to scream her discontent with the situation. But knowing the sound would not go unheard, she gritted her teeth and remained silent. She retrieved her weapons just as angrily as she threw them, and trying to calm down, she placed the metal tips of their hilts to her temples, closing her eyes at the coolness of their touch. "Legolas," she whispered to herself, "I need you to tell me it will be alright."

 _Helpless_ ; that was how she felt in that moment, knowing there was nothing she could do to stop Samsara from dying, and furthermore nothing she could do to stop this plague from taking more lives as it threatened to reverse all the Reunited Easterling Coalition had fought for in the last decade. She tried to envision Legolas there, to hear his voice reassuring her, but realized she could no longer remember how he sounded, or how it felt to have him hold her. The years stretched beyond where she thought they would and her hope to accomplish what she set out from the West to do became more untenable. The Elf captain reminded her again that night; her past misdeeds would never be amended. And now, on the verge of losing another comrade, the personal anguish seemed justified. _It is no longer about my redemption..._

Later that evening, Glorfindel provided Samsara another tonic to ease her breathing and relax her. Cyane had not left her side.

"You are not the one," Samsara queried of the Elf as he worked.

"The one?" he asked her calmly, bringing her the cup.

"The Elf the General desires to return to," she finished tiredly.

"I am not," he replied, helping her sit up slightly to drink.

"That is unfortunate," Samsara looked upon her daughter sleeping next to her, "She deserves some happiness. She has already risked so much to salvage my own."

...Samsara would pass the following day, her daughter at her side and Vezely nearby. "...Strength and courage, Cyane," Vezely consoled the youth who was clinging to her and weeping. She slowly placed her arms around her, holding her closer, "Strength and courage," she repeated, closing her own eyes, but tears did not fall. She felt numb.

The group forewent journeying southward until after giving her a proper funeral, though it was one less worthy than it should have been for a second in command. As Cyane lit her mother's pyre, Vezely watched the child's innocence go up in smoke, and with it, a new responsibility passed onto her. Kor and Samsara were more than colleagues, they were friends. Rhun may be too large a job to fix on her own, but she would do all she could to honor that friendship and watch over their daughter. "...This sword is now yours," Vezely ritualistically handed her mother's weapon to Cyane, "May you bring honor to your ancestors with the lives you take with it..."

Before her journey, Glorfindel offered condolences for her loss and asked, "If there are tidings you would like brought westward...?" he wondered whether she desired to bring personal word to her acquaintances and specifically to Legolas.

"I have none," she answered quickly, hiding her regret; she hadn't the time or the mindset to spend the evening writing a letter. "The situation in Rhun speaks for itself. I appreciate the reprieve you've allotted my company. May your journey West be unhindered."

He nodded curtly, "May your journey be as well."

"Farewell, my lord," Cyane, who was riding behind Vezely, spoke politely to him in Elvish, "Thank you for bringing my mother comfort."

Glorfindel looked upon the child's serene face, finding in it maturity and strength, "I wish I could have done more. Farewell, young one. Trust you will see peace one day." _There is something about this child_ , he thought, but he could not deduce anything more specific. As they departed, he called after, "Hope is not lost, child of Elur _é_ d," but Vezely did not look back, forgoing what would have been a bitter reply to such optimism.

* * *

Reinforcements had been sent north to try and halt the People of the Dark Lands' encroachment in Logathavuld's northern regions; eventually retaking the village Cyane was raised in and keeping the enemy from encroaching any farther into Dorwinion. The devastating plague would finally run its course and a year after Samsara's death there were no reports of the illness in any of the Reunited Easterling Coalition's territories. But in those three years, the Coalition's losses, both in terms of men and land, were substantial. Agasha Dag did not fare any better, however. The temporary cessation called between the Coalition and Agasha Dag helped reignite negotiations and a possibility of a truce between the two territories; a major means for the Coalition to undermine their allegiance with the People of the Dark Lands. Due to being the territory separating the Coalition and the Dark Lands, Agasha Dag had witnessed immeasurable destruction and its leaders were wary of more war.

Meanwhile, the People of the Dark Lands spread their forces into less occupied territories of Rhun, conquering small states and accruing territories surrounding the main prefectures. It was not until the plague subsided that the Coalition could start reclaiming the lands they lost.

* * *

_[30th year of the Fourth Age; 32 years after Vezely left Minas Tirith... ]_

"...You fought well. Your parents would be proud," Vezely told Cyane after her first battle. She was sixteen, the legal age when one could sign up for military service.

"You are a good teacher," she responded humbly, noting the adrenaline was yet pumping through her veins.

"Not all can be taught," Vezely bantered back walking with her to her tent as soldiers halted aside them and bowed their heads down respectfully to the general as she passed. "You are the daughter of two warriors, not to mention your father is from Khand."

Cyane smirked; it was both amusing and heartwarming to be reminded again of this. Though she never met her father or had any other links to his homeland, whenever anyone heard she had Variag blood in her, they assumed her ferocity in battle and complimented her as such. She had decided for her second weapon to be a short axe in honor of him, while her main weapon remained her mother's scimitar. "Was your birth father and mother as such?" She asked, realizing she never spoke to Vezely about her blood parents, though she knew well, as everyone else, of her Balchoth heritage.

"No, they were not warriors. In fact," smiling slightly at the amusement such a connection could confer, "My father was a fisherman, choosing a simple life over one where his bloodline would have conferred him lordship in any realm he desired."

"The General, a fisherman's daughter?" Cyane remarked while suppressing a laugh, having already entered the tent where she could speak to her more candidly.

"That's right," Vezely rejoined skeptically cocking one eyebrow.

"No one would believe such a tale," she added smiling.

"I suppose it does seem strange in Rhun," Vez further considered, "Though the relation produces a different reaction among my kin."

Moving over to tend the furnace, Cyane voiced her thoughts, "I wish I could have met my father. There are so many questions I want to ask him. Like how he felt after his first battle, what it was like fighting in and surviving the great war, why he loved my mother..."

"That last one is a rather loaded question," Vezely interrupted, herself engaged in taking her rings off to wash her hands in a basin, "Knowing your father he would probably just say he did."

"Is that the way of love?" Cyane inquired while poking the burning wood with an iron rod; her eyes, however, wandered over to the General's line of rings on the table, and the one silver ring that remained on her finger, as always.

Vez took a moment to consider her response, turning the ring on her finger and thinking about its meaning as she did. "I suppose," she finally said pivoting to her as she took a towel to dry her hands. "Love often provides no explanation of why it exists, and it can occur unexpectedly. I believe your mother was not expecting to fall in love with your father."

Having watched her curiously, Cyane perceived she spoke also of her own relationship. Then brushing off anymore inquisitiveness, she added casually, "Perhaps it's strange to ask such questions after a battle."

"No, I actually find it is when one is most appreciative of life and how we live it," Vez smiled slightly, sitting down at the table, again looking upon her ring.

Cyane placed a kettle on the furnace to prepare tea, speaking as she worked, "I guess that is why I cannot stop thinking about my parents..."

Vezely realized she did the same thing after battles. Her thoughts almost always turned to Legolas and the hope that one day the battle would be her last and she could turn her horse westward. She wondered if he would still be living in Ithilien; in those perfect vernal forests and the waterfalls its trees hid from first sight. Though admittedly, part of her wondered if he had already sailed to the Undying Lands. She would not blame him if he did, for their separation had gone on longer than either expected upon her departure and to endure the call seemed a difficult task, especially if it was strong enough to pull his own parents apart.

Cyane poured a cup of Easterling spice tea for her, remarking kindly, "Thank you again, for allowing me to fight with the lower ranks."

Vezely rerouted her thoughts and looked up at her, "Your mother would not approve, but I understand the desire to prove yourself before advancing to an officer position." Cyane was already well positioned to rise in rank, having spent the past years as the General's squire and apprentice, but she had desired to prove herself on the front lines first before being given any privileged position.

And in the following six years she did just that, taking on a captain position at age 22 just like her mother before her. It was at this time that they had advanced their assault into the Dark Lands. _Soon_ , Vezely thought as she marched with her legions over the Ukstranz River into enemy territory, _soon this war will be over and I can return to where my heart is..._


	51. The Sun Sets in the West

_[39th year of the Fourth Age; 41 years after leaving Minas Tirith...]_

Vezely knelt aside her most recent kill, now motionless and face down on the fur lined carpet of her tent. Yanking off his black headscarf, it revealed underneath a face of a youth barely of militia age.

"He's young," Cyane remarked bluntly, her eyes scanning the boy's face briefly while sheathing her scimitar. It was the third time that month assassins had infiltrated their camp, killing members of their guard, posing in the garb of the ones they killed, and trying to off the General and other high ranked officers. The first time it had resulted in the death of their second lieutenant. "They seemed to not have changed their style," she added sardonically, for they had attacked again in the middle of the night, attempting to slit their throats while they slept.

While Cyane started to dutifully fix the General's tent, for its furniture had been knocked about during the fight, Vezely stared a moment longer at the youth, querying where he was born, who his parent's were, and finding again that unsettling feeling in the back of her mind that her sword had been stained with the blood of too many innocents. As her legions marched closer to the main cities of the Dark Lands, the closest they had yet come to victory, she wondered if she had slipped too far back into past habits that her redemption would remain on shaky ground. Even if peace was reestablished and she could return West knowing she had helped achieve it, there was little guarantee she could sail with Legolas to the Undying Lands.

Her meeting with Glorfindel and the confrontation that occurred with the Dorwinion Elves fourteen years ago reminded her of this; the Valar would judge her as an Elf, not as an Easterling. The two prisoners she carried from northern Logathavuld through the Dorwinion forests were eventually tortured and interrogated. The one died before revealing any information; the other offered little more than confirmation of what they already assumed. Having not produced the desired end made Vezely uncomfortable about her means; something she often did not question. _Was Glorfindel right? Was it un-Elflike to overlook suffering, even of one's enemies? Was the captain of the Dorwinion guards correct? Was she still a tyrant?_

She pulled back the boy's collar, revealing on the nape of his neck a tattoo that counted him among the Brotherhood of Melkor, the most ruthless of the seven military kingdoms in the Dark Lands and the most independent, deeming themselves 'divine' warriors whose main purpose in the war was to harvest slaves for ritual sacrifice. If the price was right, they readily offered their services to task deemed reprehensively even by the Dark Lands' standards.

"General!" Vezely's current second in command, Ashlon, handed her a scroll found on one of the assassins. "It would appear the price on your head is now three times what it was previously," he informed her, having already read its contents.

Vez scoffed slightly as she unrolled the parchment, remarking as she did, "How long before my own soldiers consider the offer?"

"They would not!" Cyane reprimanded her for that comment, even if it was a bit of sarcasm.

Vez apologized for her misplaced remark with a brief nod, knowing Cyane was uncomfortable with these recent developments. The People of the Dark Lands were not engaging in strictly proper warfare since their armies crossed over into their territory. Ambushes, tainted water sources, assassination attempts, all contributed to a tense atmosphere, despite the fact that they continued their takeover of settlements and increased their foothold ever farther eastward. And to add to the discomfort, the desert sun was unrelenting. They had passed into the harsher environments of the Dark Lands and would have to endure the heat of the daytime, the freezing chill of the night, and more intense rationing of water as the summer season was soon to come.

* * *

The following year, one of the legions' best contingents of cavalry was ambushed by the Brotherhood of Melkor when returning to base camp from campaigns in the north. The head officers, which included Ashlon, the second in command, had also been taken prisoner. All assumed the men were dead, sacrifices for their cult rituals or slaves for the opiate fields, but when Ashlon returned one evening to base camp, disheveled and malnourished from his journey through the desert, no one expected him or the information he carried.

"...Hundreds of prisoners, and not just our soldiers, but villagers from our borders who have been there for ages, working their opiate fields. They take a few at a time to the capital, to sacrifice in the main temple. With my rank, I would have been next, if they did not find alternate purpose," the man spoke slowly and in between several sips of water as Vezely and her commanding officers listened to his tale. All narrowed their eyes upon the mention of an 'alternate purpose,' anxious for him to continue. He looked straight at Vezely, "They want to make a deal, release of one-hundred civilians and my regiment, in exchange for you, General."

"You are joking?" Cyane spoke up when Vezely did not, her eyes shifting back and forth between the two.

"I am not," he replied to the young captain firmly, "It is what they call a Year of Reckoning. Every decade they hold a three day festival in the capital, and the Brotherhood sacrifices one-hundred of their slaves to appease Melkor. You, however, are worth much more. Not to mention, it would fill their leader's pocket with the coin the other leaders have assembled for your capture."

"They are bold to make such terms," Vez replied unconcerned after a moment of uncomfortable silence.

"Even bolder to believe I would betray you for my own added profit," he added forthrightly, not desiring to keep it secret.

Vez nodded politely to Ashlon, grateful for his honesty, "And when is this festival?"

"In three months, during the winter solstice," he informed them.

Vezely milled through plans of her own while looking off into space. Cyane watched her closely; uncomfortable by the possibilities her mind could conjure. Turning her attention back to her second in command, "Rest Ashlon, we will discuss strategy further when you have recovered."

"You are not considering their offer?" he asked concerned, thinking as the others there it was a ridiculous deal to broker.

"I am not. I am considering making use of this information," Vezely returned calmly, "A time of festival is an optimal time of attack. If we can manage our troops to march on the capital during this event, then we have a chance of ending the war and preventing further death to our people..."

After the officers left the council, Cyane voiced her fears, "I do not think we can take the capital in only three months time. Unless you know something I do not."

Vezely quickly went to the map on her table, her eyes scanning the settlements between their current location and the capital, "You once queried the possibility of rekindling negotiations with Khand."

Cyane shook her head, before voicing her concern, "I did, but we both agreed my blood relations would not be enough to sway them from neutrality."

"I think you should try," Vezely spoke encouragingly, "What we need is one last battle to end this war of tiny victories, and we can't do that without superior numbers. We need Khand to join this fight, to help us take the capital."

Looking over the map with her, Cyane then asked a nagging question, "Why did you not mention this among the other officers? Do you not trust Ashlon?"

"I trust Ashlon completely," Vez responded calmly, grateful to have no reason to doubt her men, "He wasn't lying about their offer, though I cannot be assured that our camp is free of spies. Negotiating with Khand will be our wild card, and one I place on your shoulders."

"That is a heavy task," Cyane replied uncertain, her eyes finding Khand on the map.

"One I know you can handle," Vez replied undeterred. She then pulled a scroll from the nearby shelf, handing it to Cyane, "This correspondence came from our main post a fortnight ago. Our leaders are willing to broker a deal with the Variags in exchange for their assistance in this war and I believe you are the best to take them this offer..."

It was not the only negotiations the Reunited Easterling Coalition decided to broker. Vezely thought it was time to call in the favor owed to her by the Haradrim; payment for her aid in Minas Tirith. Two of the men she escorted to their homeland had become high ranking officials and she made sure to remain in correspondence with them ever since. Like Khand, Harad always remained neutral, but the plague and the stunted trade up north made them reconsider their position. They wanted peace in Rhun, but they would not pledge aid until one side's victory was assured, and now it was certainly close for the Reunited Easterling Coalition.

* * *

The General accompanied the young Captain to the southern borders, where she would continue on to Khand with a smaller contingent of warriors.

"...If this doesn't work," Cyane started concerned, speaking in private council with Vez before the dawn of her departure.

"It will," Vezely replied encouragingly, knowing she was nervous of failing such a crucial task, "You can convince them."

Cyane always felt unworthy of her mentor's praise, though grateful to have it. Ever since her mother died, Vezely had been nothing but supportive; stern as a mentor who desired her pupil to learn, but caring as a parent who desired her to be emotionally well. Saying in wistful prose as she clasped her hands on the table, Cyane added, "Just one battle to end it all. For peace in Rhun."

"For peace in Rhun," Vez repeated also thinking it over; it was a strange concept to grasp and uncanny to think it could happen in less than three months time.

"And then your departure from it," Cyane spoke with some unhidden sadness on a topic they didn't often discuss, but which she knew was inevitable.

Vez responded carefully, "I will no longer be needed in Rhun."

"You _are_ needed here," Cyane corrected forthrightly, giving her a discerning stare, "You are the people's general, they trust you to lead them."

Vez shook her head, now correcting her, "To lead them in war, not in peace. I have no skill for that and leave it to those as yourself, who are young and have more optimism than I can spare."

The rarity of her self-deprecation made Cyane smile only briefly; she still felt a need to interrogate her future plans, "Is it worth leaving behind all you have helped build? The respect everyone carries for you?"

Vez explained her thoughts carefully, "If I was of the race of man, I could stay and be proud of all I accomplished as an Easterling warrior; knowing in death I would be honored among my kin."

"Would you not be honored among Elves?" Cyane asked surprised, adding a second query quickly after, "Can you not even be proud of your earned status?"

"Of the bravery my legions continue to show in the face of horror. Of all I have had the privilege to fight alongside. And of you, who I have watched grow into a fine warrior, and who will someday be an even better leader than I could have hoped," Vez answered kindly, pride stirring in her chest, "But of myself," she shook her head, "I do not have a place of honor among my kin and I should not because of my past. It will remain the debt I cannot pay. All I know is I cannot outstay my purpose in Rhun, and I made a promise to return West."

"To Legolas," Cyane ended her sentence by saying the Elf's name unimpressed, "And if he is not there?" She knew about 'the call,' and about the added strain it put their relationship in.

"Then he is where he needs to be," Vez replied calmly, having come to terms with the possibility of Legolas not being in Ithilien when she returned. "And I will follow him across the sea, if I am permitted to."

She rejoined skeptically, "And once there, you would still go to him, even though he did not keep his promise? And don't say because of love." Instead of answering, Vez laughed at her readiness to dismiss any blanketed reply, causing Cyane to raise her eyebrows surprised and desiring confirmation, "After all this time, you still hold affection for him?"

"I do," the words fell from her lips in one quiet breath, as if regretting falling in love with him, for in doing so she imparted the pain of her overlong absence. Adding after, "Even if he no longer holds me in his heart, a promise is a promise and I will return West where at least I can thank him for the added courage he gave me to keep fighting."

"Well," Cyane replied forthrightly, lifting her chin up and crossing her arms, "He is only worthy of you _if_ he waits," which caused a smile to be exchanged between them as they knew their conversation would need to end, for it was time for Cyane to depart.

...Vezely watched contemplatively as Cyane rode south to Khand, carried on her black horse with her cavalry aside her. She waited atop the sand dune until they became a black line on the horizon. "Cyane, I have done much wrong in my life," she spoke quietly to the arid wind as it changed direction around her, "But by raising you, I may have done one thing right."

She would return to base camp to further the plans for the attack only to find the Brotherhood of Melkor has struck again; another contingent was ambushed and taken to their slave camps.

* * *

_[Dreaming of the past: Third Age 2641; Mirkwood Forest]_

_"...It keeps trying to breathe," the six year old knelt down and inquisitively watched the carp her father just caught for dinner repetitively open and close its gills and mouth._

_"It wants to live," the tall, dark-haired Elf knelt next to his tiny daughter, looking upon the side of her inquisitive face. He took her along with him to work at the riverbed that day; to be a 'helper,' much to the delight of his peers for whom an Elf child was a rarity and a joy for all to be around._

_"But doesn't it know it will die?" she asked, sounding overly concerned for the fish's mental well-being._

_"Even if it does, should it not try to live?" He followed with another question, for he could not answer for the fish._

_She turned her head to see her father yet looking upon her, a calm smile upon his face. "I guess so," she returned still thinking it though; afterwards biting her lip as she quietly debated whether to ask another question._

_"C'mon. There is still work to do," he placed a gentle hand on her back to prompt her to leave the fish's side; he needed to help with another set of barrels being moved down stream before they could depart for home._

_"One more question!" she chirped, prompting him to stay knelt beside her. "Is it the same for us?" Her father turned his head, uncertain of her meaning, "You said when we die we don't really leave Arda, we just relocate to Aman."_

_"I did," he looked down upon her with endearing pride, again witnessing an instance where her mind continued to grow and question new knowledge in relation to the knowledge she already had. He told her carefully, "But once we go forth we cannot return to Middle Earth. So, if we are the fish, we might need to decide where we want to live, or perhaps, who is there to live for. And just maybe by trying," he picked up the fish and tossed it back into the river, knowing the learning opportunity meant more than dinner, "Those desires will be met..."_

Vezely awoke in a cold sweat, her breathing heavy, and her mind groggy; she did not often dream or in this case, revisit her childhood past so vividly. It was the last afternoon she spent with her father. That evening the Orcs raided the small colony where her family lived in Northern Mirkwood, and though she saw her father and mother fall under their blades, she wanted to believe they lived; the thought kept her strong while being relocated and while in the presence of Sauron. She wondered why she now revisited this memory, though her time to contemplate it was immediately nixed when commotion in the camp, cries to sound the alarm, jolted her from her blankets; assassins had struck again.

...She held the lifeless body of Colonel Olani in her arms, the victim of the latest attack. They had laced her wine with poison, killing not only her but several of her company.

"This needs to stop!" Vez cried, emotions raging not only for the loss of Olani, who was dear to her, but despair for those who had been taken and who might be next; that it could easily be Cyane in her arms passed her mind, "There is only one option..."

* * *

The second in command, Ashlon, stood defiant in front of Vezely, holding her just relinquished sword by his side, "I know all has been planned, but I cannot in right conscious allow you to do this General. We need you to lead us in this fight."

"Your regiment and the rest of the men they will release are more integral to our victory," she returned firmly, "And once I am delivered to the capital, our enemy will assume by your false coup that we are weak, the Brotherhood will lessen their attacks on our camps, and the rest of our plans can move forward, it is the best solution for right now..."

The People of the Dark Lands had quadrupled the price on her head, leading to more attacks on her legions by the Brotherhood of Melkor, who were more determined to claim the reward. These small skirmishes with the group had become burdensome enough to prevent their progress; putting them behind in their march toward the capital for the festival. The plan was for Ashlon to play the part of usurper of the Reunited Easterling Coalition, handing over Vezely as his prisoner for the price of all taken regiments and two-hundred of their slaves.

"...They will not sacrifice me at the start of the festival, and you will take the capital before its end," she added for reassurance, "And from inside its gates, perhaps I can even aid in our victory..." This was a false claim; she doubted she would be under guarded in their prisons, but it was one she shared to give hope to those who might lose it. "Now," she looked at him bravely, "You better make it convincing." Vezely prepared for the beating; they needed to make the coup appear as one.

* * *

In shock by the news, Cyane, who had just returned successful from her negotiations in Khand, relocated herself to a nearby tent to read the letter in private.

_Cyane,_

_I do not expect you to agree with this decision upon first receiving the news, but know it is the only solution we could find to go forward with our plans. Harad will meet us and I have no doubt Khand will be there. Please look after my possessions in my absence. I expect you to bring them to me when I meet you at the gates of the capital._

_Strength in times of darkness, courage in times of fear, death to those who oppose. There is still hope._

_Vezely_

Cyane's grip tightened, crumpling the paper in it, as she tried to keep her rage and fear from releasing in a scream. She picked up the small red silk pouch and spilled it contents into her palm. She starred in disbelief at Vezely's two rings: her gold Blachoth leadership ring and the one she never saw her remove, the pure silver betrothal ring.

Taking a deep breath, she removed the necklace around her neck which belonged to her mother. After unclasping it, she carefully threaded the two rings on its strand, and placed it back around her neck. She then grabbed Vezely's sword, finding it hard not to admire for its expert craftsmanship. She unsheathed it to its midway point and whispered to herself the carving on its polished blade. In Elvish script it read, _"The stars still shine, even behind a veil of darkness."_ Cyane realized she never bothered to ask Vezely what this phrase meant or why she decided to have it engraved there, and in Elvish. _You will ask her when peace is assured,_ she told herself, trying to keep hope during this unexpected situation...

* * *

The following weeks were a blur for Vezely. "...You are our greatest foe, but that does not mean we lack respect..." the well-spoken general of the Brotherhood told her at the start of her captivity. They knew torturing her was a waste of time, and some even feared doing so; believing Elves had powers they did not understand.

They slowly moved her to the capital to collect their reward and gloat to the other six kingdoms for achieving what they could not. She knew that the parade through their gates would be the most demeaning and the interrogation after by the leaders the most damaging. She had prepared herself for torture, and the opiates administered prior merely numbed the initial pain of her injures, blurred her vision, and took her to another place mentally, yet she never cracked. Yet they needed her alive for the ritual, so she was given minimal food and water, and left alone.

In the prisons, which were dark and as dismal as the ones in Dol Guldor, she slept, resting to recover her strength, all the while keeping hope she would hear the drums of her legions at the gates and that the end of the war was soon to come. The evening before this event, she dreamt she rode into Ithilien on the back of Leofara, even though the Rohirrim horse that Eomer gifted her in Minas Tirith for saving his life had died from old age eight years prior. She dismounted at the gates of the Elvish colony and walked slowly into the sunlit village; appreciating the unique sight of quaint houses built among the trees. Her ears were yet cloaked under her black headband, and she proudly wore the decorum of her rank. The gold embellished general's sword was at her hip; the sai which had remained her second weapon of choice, were holstered to the sides of her boots. She waited for her presence to provoke some form of recognition; for a resident to come out and greet her so she could inquire where Legolas resided, but all she could hear was the sound of her own footfalls on the crisp fallen autumn leaves. The colony had been abandoned; she was too late.

It was from this dream that the guards awoke her. They cuffed her hands behind her back and moved her to another holding cell, remarking along the way that her time had come.

It was in this new cell that she was visited by an old acquaintance, whose voice she recognized immediately.

"Leave us," the man commanded the guards before he stepped into her sight.

"Remi?" Vez now looked upon an older version of the man who she held much history with. She assumed rightfully that he fled with several of Agasha Dag's commanding officers to the Dark Lands' when the province fell to the Coalition; gaining asylum and even position in their legions. Remi was always a survivor. "If you came here to gloat," Vez started dangerously.

"I did not," he replied quietly, kneeling closely beside her. His eyes roamed her face, amazed to find it unchanged from his memory; reminding him that she was indeed Elf-kind, something he never could truly embrace. As he placed a hand on her arm, she jerked away, fearing his intention. "Nor am I here to cause harm," he told her quickly, causing her to look upon him. She was surprised to find sincerity in his eyes; she believed him. "You do not have much time," he whispered regretfully, "Know if I could stop this, I would."

"Is that supposed to be an apology?" Vez replied unimpressed, her eyes remaining stern.

Remi released a dejected breath, "I do not deserve one." He then ran his hand down her forearm, to the irons cuffing her wrists behind her back; she heard the small click of one cuff being unlocked, though not removed. He whispered in her ear afterward, "I know you will never accept my love, but at least I can give you a chance to die with honor." She looked upon his pain-filled eyes, shocked by this act which undoubtedly would spell treason if discovered. She could tell, despite the power he held, regret of his past betrayals wrecked him through the years.

She slowly bowed her head feeling humbled, "I will not forget this, Remi," she replied quietly, but firmly.

Vezely kept her hands clasped behind her to keep the unclasped cuff in place as guards escorted her up the steps of the main temple, which sat at the highest point above the city that one could peer over its gates and see far into the West. Preparing for the start of the festival, the people of the capital lined the streets below, holding in their hands candles whose flames grew brighter as the sun slunk closer to the horizon. At the top they led her onto a raised stage, and forced her to kneel as a priest began chanting beside her. Her eyes scanned to the left and then the right, finding each side of the stage held four guards holding spears. Immediately beside her were two large enforcers, wearing golden wolf masks; they would hold her as the priest slit her throat and collected her blood as offering.

She would not be the last sacrifice of the festival, but the first; realizing now she made a major miscalculation. She looked back out onto the horizon, to the blaring orange sun about to touch the flat earth below it, to the far West beyond where now more than ever she desired to return, and to Legolas whom she knew had been waiting for her all along. Her heartbeat quickened along with her breath, drowning out the priest's rhythmic chanting beside her and the repeated hymns of the people in the streets below. With her voice at only a whisper, in Elvish tongue Vezely called upon the powers she never before spoke to, _"Please hear me, Elbereth,"_ she mouthed the name of the queen of the stars, _"So that Manwe can see."_ It was then upon the western horizon, underneath the sun's glare, a fine black line crept forward; all but imperceptible if not for the keen eyesight of her race. She knew her legions were approaching and the sight stirred pride within her chest; they were on their way to take the capital.

The wolf-masked enforcers grasped hold of her forearms, as the priest took the ceremonial sword from its resting place nearby. She spoke again in Elvish, _"My fate after death is yours,"_ she told the two head Valar in meager hope they were listening, _"But in this life, there is one more act I must do to aid those I see before me."_ As the sun collided with the horizon, she felt the cold blade touch her throat and Vezely clicked the cufflink open behind her.


	52. The Uniter of Nations

_[46th year of the Fourth Age; 48 years after Vezely left Minas Tirith...]_

The black horse galloped faster after crossing the nondescript borders of Gondor; its heavy huffs of breath matched the thumps of anticipation felt in the chest of its rider as she leaned forward into the frigid wind that greeted them. An intense gallop over meadows and riverbeds turned to a leisurely trot as soon as they entered the forests of Ithilien. There, the rider dismounted her saddle to find trails that could lead her to a settlement within.

It was the 46th year of the Fourth Age; six years after the end of the Rhunic Civil Wars. One month had already passed into the autumn season so the leaves of Ithilien had turned enumerable shades of orange and red and were falling upon her as she walked. The soles of her black leather boots crunched on those that had already found their way to the forest's floor, making it more difficult for her eyes to spot a trail. Yet with patience and perhaps a little luck, she came across a well-used path and followed it.

It was early evening in the Elvish colony when she arrived. Its inhabitants had just returned from their day's labor and were in their quaint homes relaxing or perhaps starting to prepare the evening's supper. It was not long before someone noted the rider's presence and came out to greet her, albeit apprehensively.

Noting some anxiety in her greeter, for she was heavily armed and yet hooded, she spoke first, using Elvish, "I am looking for Legolas of the Woodland Realm. Does he still inhabit these forests?"

The Elf gave her a curious look, finding her black raiment and weaponry uncanny to her speech, though her use of his native tongue made her appear less threatening. He responded politely, "He does. May I tell him of Lady..." He paused, inquiring her name.

"Just a visitor from Rhun," she replied humbly, not desiring to provide any details.

The Elf simply nodded, seeing no needed to question her purpose further, "I will alert him of your presence...visitor from Rhun."

She pressed her fist to her chest, and bowed her head down in gratitude. While watching him walk off, she thought endearingly, _So he did wait_.

Legolas had spent the afternoon with Gimli watching over Eldarion, the three year old son of Arwen and Aragorn. Gondor's royal family already had two daughters, who were both now of adult age. During their youth, each spent a lot of time in the Elven colony, learning Elvish trades and lore. And now with Eldarion, the returned presence of a child in the colony had rekindled in many a joyous reminder of days too quickly past.

The colony had shrunk significantly during the last two decades, with many inhabitants deciding it was time to leave these shores on the ships Lord Glorfindel had commissioned for him and the Elven travelers who accompanied him from farthest Rhun. Legolas journeyed to his father's halls in Eryn Lasgalen to celebrate the return of the Elf lord, and to hopefully hear news about the lands he just departed. Variag and Harad ambassadors in Gondor spoke of continued civil war and of a devastating plague, though this lacked the more personal information he desired.

"...We crossed paths in the forests of Dorwinion," Glorfindel told Legolas carefully, as his father listened closely nearby. Thranduil always considered himself caretaker of his son's emotions, and with Vezely, he had heightened concern. "...The lands' troubles distress her heavily..." Glorfindel went on to detail the reason for the Easterlings' diversion through those forests, the confrontation with the Dorwinion Elves over the handling of two prisoners, the unexpected death of her second in command, another victim of the disease that had already taken a third of her army, and the heartbreaking request the dying woman made of Vezely to watch over her daughter, Cyane. Glorfindel divulged every detail and his impression of what he witnessed, feeling Legolas had a right to know after so many years of silence. There was no letter to be handed to him, however; though Glorfindel assured him Vezely would not have had time to write it with the evening's events. "...There was something special about this child," Glorfindel pondered again, thinking about Cyane, "I believe she has gone on to do great deeds for Rhun...And perhaps, even greater for Vezely..."

When he was alone with his father that same evening, Thranduil offered advice, "You must prepare yourself for the possibility that she will not return."

"She will," Legolas replied in denial, "She will not break our promise."

"It is not the mental breaking of a promise, but the possibility of her falling that you must prepare for," he returned firmly, "You heard Glorfindel detail her handling of those prisoners. She has not changed her evil ways in war. The Valar..."

"The Valar request much of her," Legolas interrupted hastily. He knew he should not speak ill of the higher powers, but it pained him to believe they would still condemn her after such trials and hardships. "She still fights for peace, regardless of her means," he added in defense, believing she still sought after redemption.

"That may be so," Thranduil replied carefully, "But her fate is not ours to decide..."

Legolas remained committed to waiting for Vezely's return and then not sailing until the time was right for both of them. He also did not yet desire to leave behind his fellowship companions, within whose company he always felt content. It was days such as the one just experienced - a morning spent with Arwen and Aragorn, an afternoon caretaking a precocious child, and an evening sharing food and banter with Gimli when he stayed in the colony when visiting from Aglarond - that were the most joyous for Legolas. It allowed him to forget the call and set aside his worry for Vezely, albeit momentarily. And when rumors then confirmation came to Gondor that the greater Rhunic wars had ended, he believed it was just a matter of time before she would return. But as years continued to pass without her presence, he grew more restless.

Gimli lit a pipe after he slumped into a cushioned recliner, which the Elf prince never used and in truth, only had as furniture for the benefit of his aging dwarf companion during his many visits. "Aaah," he sighed, relieved to be able to relax, "Toddlers are more tiring than axing a pack of Orcs."

"You must be getting old my friend, to be worn out by one not even half your size," Legolas returned jovially, as he milled through the kitchen preparing a simple dinner.

"Aye, that I am," Gimli puffed out with some pipe smoke, "I felt it deep in my bones the last trip we took. Age is finally creeping up on me."

"You still have many miles ahead of you my friend," Legolas replied sincerely while placing a kettle on the stove, trying not to show his internal sadness for time passing by.

The sudden knock at the door did not surprise them. Legolas was often called upon by neighbors in the colony for various reasons or cheerful visits. So instead of having his resting friend leave his armchair, Legolas quickly set off to answer it.

"My lord, apologies for the interruption," the Elf standing outside stated respectfully.

"No apologies needed, Alyan," Legolas corrected him with a smile, while opening the door more fully. "We were just about to have some supper, if you would like to join us?"

"That is kind of you to invite me my lord, but I have come to inform you of a woman who has entered our village, inquiring of your whereabouts. She says she is a visitor from Rhun," Alyan watched as the smile dissolved from the prince's face and was replaced by stoic disbelief, "My lord, she's..."

But Legolas did not wait for Alyan to finish his sentence and instead rushed passed him out the door.

Alyan stared concerned at Gimli who had come to the door upon hearing the mention of a visitor from Rhun. The dwarf immediately gathered from the Elf's unspoken worry that the news was not what Legolas perhaps believed. Although just moments ago complaining of soreness, Gimli sprinted after him.

In the midst of detaching a sword from the horse's saddle, the rider heard the crunch of footfalls on the littering of leaves behind her, causing her to turn. She met the blue eyes of a golden-haired Elf whose quickened steps halted, and who searched her over before looking to the glen behind her, scanning for someone else in her company.

The rider slowly pulled the black hood off her head, and she tucked a piece of her shoulder length black hair behind her ear, "Legolas of the Woodland Realm?" She asked after regaining his gazes' attention. Yet processing the situation, all Legolas could do was briefly nod, which was enough for the woman to believe he was the one she sought. "My name is Cyane, General of the New Rhun Defense Forces. I bring news. And my condolences," she spoke slowly and carefully, her eyes displaying the sorrow of the information she came there to provide.

Gimli had arrived in time hear the Easterling woman's greeting, and he immediately noted the shock that overtook his companion.

"Come with us inside lass, and get yourself warm," he coaxed the visitor politely, "Master Aylan, please take her horse to the stables."

Cyane pulled her rucksack from her horse's saddle before relinquishing the reins to the Elf who greeted her.

"C'mon lad," Gimli placed a hand on Legolas's forearm, "Let's not do this here."

Cyane followed them to a modest home set within the trees. She found the warmth walking inside inviting after riding through the frigid autumn air. She set down her own ax and sword at the entryway, but kept her beloved general's sword in her hand. Gimli quickly tended to the whistling kettle, telling her to take a seat at the table.

Versed in Rhunic etiquette, Cyane did not speak until the tea was served so there was an awkward silence and tension brewing between her and the Elf who slowly sat down across from her.

Legolas observed her closely as she pulled from her rucksack a small fabric wrapped package, keeping it on her lap, while balancing the sword she did not relinquish at the door there also. _Vezely's sword_ , he thought in disbelief, not thinking any further about the package. As Gimli poured him a cup of tea, he realized he felt sick in his stomach and would not drink it.

"Gratitude," Cyane's voice broke his thoughts and he watched her duck her head down after accepting the tea that Gimli poured. "You must be Gimli, Son of Gloin," she acknowledged the dwarf who she had heard tales of with a brief smile.

"Aye, that I am," he replied, taking a seat next to Legolas.

"I would have come sooner," Cyane continued as an apology, "But the war's end brought many tasks before I could take my leave."

"The war's end?" Legolas finally spoke, gathering his knowledge from the ambassadors in Gondor, "That was six years ago. Vezely...she has been..."

"Dead for six years, yes," Cyane finished his sentence noting he could not. Legolas closed his eyes and ducked his head down, trying to reconcile the six years he lived in ignorance of this horrible truth. Hoping to uplift him, Cyane continued firmly, "But so glorious was her death that remembrance sparks pride in the hearts of all Easterlings. She died with upmost honor, a true warrior."

He looked up at her; finding an uncanny remembrance of Vezely telling him she always desired such a death. _"The Balchoth live and die by the sword;"_ he suddenly could hear her voice in his head.

To aid his now mute companion, Gimli prompted the conversation forward, "So, she must have fallen during the last battle?" They had heard peace was secured after the taking of the Dark Lands' capital; a grand feat aided by Khand and Harad's forces.

"Before," Cyane corrected him politely, preparing to divulge the truth of Vezely's last moments in the Dark Lands' capital. "...I would never have let her go through with these plans, though they were deemed necessary at the time," she yet held regret for not having been there to intervene. "Once passing the borders into the Dark Lands, our forces were hindered by ambushes, tainted water supplies, assassination attempts, all courtesy of the Brotherhood of Melkor who desired the gold set for her head and the bragging rights that came with such a capture...The deal brokered was her for two-hundred of their slaves and three of our captured regiments...We needed to cool their attacks, so we could continue our march to the capital in hopes to take it before the end of this festival, an opportune time of attack...It was a miscalculation. All thought the General would be the last sacrifice, but she was the first they took to their high temple."

"They killed her," the words fell from Legolas's mouth hastily in despair, his eyes diverted from hers as he unevenly gulped in some air.

"Not as a sacrifice," Cyane tilted her chin up, determined to speak proudly of her mentors last deeds, "The sun was about to set when our troops stormed their gates, but when we entered, their defenses were already in disarray. How she managed to uncuff herself is anyone's guess," Cyane smirked slightly, "But she single-handedly took down the Brotherhoods' high priests and with their own ceremonial sword, no less. Survivors who bore witness speak of hundreds falling under her blade before they could take her down." She slowly pushed aside her tea cup and gently placed the package on the table in front of her, untying the burgundy fabric to reveal a highly polished, black soap stone box. One side was engraved with Rhunic script. "All Rhun honored her at her funeral. Variags, Haradrim, and the greater Easterling tribes. Vezely will be remembered for bringing peace to Rhun, as the Uniter of Nations." Cyane stood up and with measured movements presented the sword in the palm of her hands horizontally, "Her sword was entrusted to me prior her imprisonment to guard along with her other precious items; so that I could return them to her when we met again. But as that is not to be, I believe she would want me pass this task on to you," she outstretched the weapon towards him.

Legolas eyes roamed the embellished sword, its black lacquered sheath, gold tipped hand guard, and the black linen intricately wrapped around its hilt, before rising from his seat to take it from her with two hands. The sword was nothing like the one she carried before the Battle of Pelennor Fields; it was a high officer's sword that visually proved she had come a long way in terms in rank.

Afterwards, Cyane proceeded to unclasp her mother's necklace from behind her neck. Pulling it out from under her tunic, her right hand clasped the two objects as she unstrung them. "These also I entrust to you," she pushed her fist forward to which Legolas, having lowered the sword to his side, apprehensively outstretched his one palm. "I believe," Cyane spoke as she released the rings into his palm, "It was the first and only time she removed that silver ring." Cyane had already noted that Legolas wore its twin.

Legolas stared at the two rings in his hand; they stood as a tangible validation that the woman he loved was gone. His mind was overwhelmed by the sorrow of her passing as it mingled with the fear of never seeing her again. Gimli noted that Cyane's hands had already moved to the sides of the small soapstone box on the table. The dwarf intervened, "Sit down lad," he told his grief stricken friend, believing he should not be standing for what he assumed was next.

Legolas obeyed Gimli's orders, enclosing the rings in his hand as he did.

While Cyane had properly mourned the passing of her mentor, seeing the Elf's grief brought back her own sadness. She took a deep breath before continuing, "In her will, she requested to have her ashes buried in the woods of her birth. I am more than willing to do this, but I do not know where is suitable in these lands that were once called Mirkwood."

He realized now the box contained her ashes.

"Hmm," Gimli let out a low grumble, believing this all may be too much for his pal to think through.

But Legolas composed himself, saying slowly, "I will do this. I know where."

"Gratitude," she bowed her head down and proceeded to tie the burgundy cloth back around the box.

Legolas stood back up; he needed to leave and be alone, "Gimli, please provide our guest with something to eat," then addressing her, "You may stay here as long as you would like, Cyane."

"Gratitude. Until morning if possible, for I plan to ride to Minas Tirith to seek council with the king," Cyane explained. Her task went beyond a personal endeavor to something grander - sparking much needed diplomacy between the West and Rhun.

Legolas nodded, collecting the tied box as he spoke, "I can provide you an Elven escort, so that your council will be easily met."

"That would be much appreciated," Cyane returned kindly and tilted her head down low.

While the Elf slowly left their presence, Gimli quickly went to task, asking Cyane as he walked around the table, "You and Vezely were close?"

"Yes," Cyane rounded her yet cold hands around the tea cup, finding the warmth matched the fondness she held for her mentor, "It is because of her that I even exist..." Cyane went on to explain how Vez protected her mother during her pregnancy and delivered her at birth. "...She raised me when my mother passed...She was a bit stern as is her way, but not unkind..."

Legolas made his way to the side porch, placing Vezely's sword and ashes down as he sat cross-legged aside them, finding himself mimicking the way Vezely always used to sit on the evenings he joined her outside. His Elf ears overheard Cyane in the kitchen speaking warmly of her while he sat there. They were deeds which spoke of her gentler side and of the kind heart she preferred to hide under the stone cold warrior; the woman he knew and loved. He slowly fit the two rings one by one on his own fingers, where he would keep them long after. Clenching his fist, he brought them to his lips, closed his eyes and whispered, "Vezely, how I wanted to share this life with you. To have you sit here by my side and hold my hand in yours. To look up at the stars through these trees together," he then covered his face with his hands and hung his head in grief.

...Dawn stirred and after a night of much needed rest, Cyane found herself on the porch standing next to the Elf who had remained there all evening. She greeted him in Elvish, and then asked permission to sit next to him. She sat cross-legged on the other side of the soapstone box. Before speaking, she took a moment to just look out into the still forests, breathe in the crisp morning air, and listen to the peaceful sounds of a brook babbling not far off. "She spoke of this place," her calm voice matched the scenery, "The deserts of the Dark Lands were merciless and she remarked what she would not give to be here in Ithilien, where water runs freely over rock cliffs into the clearest pools and streams she had ever seen," she turned her head, her gaze upon the contemplative Elf, telling him encouragingly, "She never did lose hope in returning west to you. She did not speak of it often, but that is her way to not speak of her heart unless asked."

Legolas smiled briefly, agreeing with this sentiment about Vezely's manner, and because after an evening of grief he found that the woman's words did indeed bring him comfort.

Cyane continued, desiring before taking her leave to ask him questions whose answers continued to elude her, "But while she never gave up hope in seeing you again, I believe she began to lose hope in her redemption. I do not fully understand Elvish death, though she spoke of her past hindering any chance of a future after it." Cyane still felt a little peeved by this and her tone darkened, "I am an Easterling, and to me, she was the perfect leader: fearless, unrelenting, and selfless. Never once did I see her falter, no matter if the world was burning around us, she persevered for her men and for the people of Rhun, and did so to the very end. She sacrificed herself for peace. She would be honored in the halls of our ancestors, but to think she would be made to suffer for our triumph," she paused and shook her head, too upset to say anymore.

"I carry your grief with this," Legolas responded quietly a moment later, and engaging her with his strained eyes, he stated determined, "Please know, that my hope of being with her again yet stands even if I cannot predict the will of those who decide her fate."

Cyane breathed in deeply, knowing she had to accept this as the only means of settling the fears she held of her mentor's future. She placed a hand on top of the soapstone box and softly ran her fingers over the cold, smooth stone. It was time to let Vezely go. After six years of having in her possession her sword, her rings, and her ashes, she would need to leave them behind in Ithilien. Again she listened to the forests around her; she could hear nightingales chirp merrily nearby as if nothing was wrong in the world. Allowing herself to believe the one who Vezely loved, internalizing his hope for this as her own, she confirmed steadily, "Then when you see her, please tell her, she was more than a mentor to me."

"I will do so, Cyane of Rhun," he told her politely, believing Vezely already knew. "Thank you for coming here, for bringing her back to me."

Cyane smiled kindly at him, speaking sincerely, "I would go to the ends of the earth for her, for she has already done so for me." She then lifted herself up, knowing it was time for her to leave; time to let go. She stepped down from the porch and turned to face Legolas, whose diverted his eyes as he found himself regretting her soon departure. He knew so little about Cyane, even though they both held importance in the same woman's life.

Then thinking again of the curious writing on Vezely's sword, Cyane spoke a new revelation out loud, "It is about hope, isn't it? The Elvish phrase engraved on her sword."

The Elf looked up at her confused before moving his hand to the sword which yet lay to his other side. He slowly unlatched the blade from the sheath, sliding it open to reveal the Elvish script; _The stars still shine, even behind a veil of darkness._ "Yes," he managed to reply as his heart sunk, "It is."

Cyane breathed in deeply, finding this realization uplifting. "Please take care, Legolas of the Woodland Realm," she brought her fist to her chest and bowed her head, "May your path bring you contentment."

"As may yours, Cyane of Rhun," touching the palm of his hand to his chest and bringing it forward.

He watched the woman leave before turning his eyes again to the polished soapstone box and then to the engraved writing on the blade that lay half unsheathed in his lap.

"Vezely," he whispered to the trees, "Is this what Lady Galadriel meant when she said my heart will drive me to the sea? Will you be in Valinor waiting for me?"


	53. In Valinor

"...Has she not fulfilled the purpose the second chance allotted her? Has she not aided in bringing peace to greater Middle Earth?" Gandalf inquired politely of Manwë, as they strolled together in the gardens of Irmo.

"My dear Olórin, Nienna has already spoken to me of your cause for she has also shed tears for mercy to be shown to the one you speak. But you, the wisest of all the Maiar, understand that the Firstborn sent to Mandos's Halls must go through a period of cleansing before being re-embodied," the head Valar responded unconcerned. He had come there to visit Nienna when Gandalf, who had taken to again enjoying these gardens upon his return to Valinor, asked for a brief council.

"Of course I understand my lord," Gandalf replied steadily, keeping his stride adjacent the tall and imposing figure, adding carefully after, "But she is a case unlike those prior. I fear that such cleansing would erase her very nature, for she is of the distant Secondborn as she is of the First." Those in Valinor used the _distant_ _Secondborn_ to refer to the "evil" men; those who were easily seduced by Morgoth and his servants in order to do their bidding.

Manwë considered his reply as he slowed his wide gait to a halt. He turned to look down upon the Maiar who he respected even more than before he sent him to Middle Earth, "Her dual nature is known Olórin, but we would move to have her in harmony with these blessed lands and all those within it."

"You speak as if you deem her ill-suited to walk among us," Gandalf queried, still watching his tone.

"Even Fëanor's sons required time in the Halls and their hands were less stained," he reminded him.

"Less stained perhaps, but they did not go through such trials and hoops to amend their deeds before the end," Gandalf added is a huff, thinking the comparison slightly unfair.

"The Halls offer healing. Does this not suit the one in question?" This made Gandalf mute as he tilted his head to the side, unsure if he should respond. Though his hesitation only made Manwë more curious, so he sought to ease the Maiar's tongue, "I allow you to speak your concern freely on this matter, Olórin, and I will consider your words advice, as you are wise in the ways of those across the sea."

"I believe, my lord," Gandalf clasped his hands together to plead respectfully, "Having had the opportunity to meet with her prior setting out to her task and knowing the extent to which she has suffered, even at the hands of the enemy she served, that she would heal better among loved ones rather than in solitude left to her own thoughts."

The Valar stared off to the side pensively before bowing his head down; a brief display that he would consider what was said. He then turned and proceeded his stroll; leaving Gandalf behind.

* * *

"My dear Rovian," Gandalf greeted Vezely's wary eyed mother cheerfully, taking her hands in his.

"Master Olórin..." Rovian greeted back, knowing why the wise sage was at their doorstep.

The couple lived just north of the port of Alqualondë, on the expansive grounds of a great chateau where Eluréd's parents, Dior and Nimloth resided. It sat high on an ocean cliff, overlooking the Sea of Belegaer to the east.

Rovian and Eluréd led Gandalf to an outside veranda where they would be served tea while the sun warmed their backs and the ocean waves hummed in their ears.

"...I have done what little I could," Gandalf told the concerned parents carefully of his intervention on Vezely's behalf. When the wizard first heard of Vezely's admittance to the Halls of Mandos he felt it necessary to inform them of it, not only because as her parents they had a right to know, but in order for them to prepare for her possible reappearance in their lives - to be the ones that help her adjust to a new and different life.

"It is more than a little," Rovian corrected him in admiration of his quest on their daughter's behalf.

"It is," Eluréd added in solidarity with his wife, gently placing his hand on top of the one she rested on the table, "And we appreciate it greatly."

Gandalf ducked his head and stared at his black tea, saddened with the thought that this couple had parenthood snatched away from them far too quickly and now gauging their earnest desire to aid their child in need, especially when she was so close yet so far away. However, the Maiar would have spoken on Vezely's behalf even without their request, as would Lord Elrond and others who knew well of her situation in Middle Earth. Vezely was not without respected acquaintances in Valinor, nor was her heritage unimportant. The House of Dior was of highest repute among the Teleri and she would be welcomed here, or at least that is what was hoped if she could receive the Valar's pardon. The Valar, however, were often slow to decide such matters.

"If the Valar accept my advice," Gandalf carefully continued, bringing up an even more touchy subject, "You will be given a high responsibility of helping her adjust to this world." The two looked upon him uncertain what he meant. "This land, these people, they are not known to her, and her estrangement goes beyond your own when first re-embodied on these shores. The Valar fear her Mannish manner. They believe the Halls suit cleansing her of these attributes in order for her to better adjust to Eldar society. But, and this is what I and all those who have met your daughter believe, these differences are her very essence. And if they can be accepted as not uncouth or unkind, for her heart is true, then she can also accept herself and finally live in peace among her kin."

Eluréd squeezed his wife's hand slightly, answering for both of them, "We are aware she is not the same young child we once loved and lost, but we are prepared to love who she has become..."

* * *

"You still linger in these halls, Bellethiel." Vairë, the wife of Mandos and weaver of the storied tapestries which spanned the Halls where the spirits of the dead waited, found Vezely's fëa yet stationary in the room whose weavings spoke of the Easterlings' history.

"That is not my name," Vezely responded, finding the reoccurrence of being called her Elvish birth name unsettling.

"It was once your name," Vairë replied, her warming presence getting closer to her, but she stopped and lit a juncture in the weaving. "At this point is when you were given a name by the distant Secondborn, but the first was not lost." Outlines of figures previous hidden in the tapestry's crowded scapes suddenly lit up, moving through pieces of Vezely's history - the Elf child stolen from Mirkwood by Orcs, brought before Sauron and handed over to the Balchoth to raise and prime as a warrior of Evil Men, the invasion of _Calenardhon and slaying of Eorl the Young, the first king of Rohan, at the Battle of Wold, and the centuries spent as one of Sauron's enforcers - all woven within the greater history of Rhun._

"But for me, that name was lost," Vezely returned, watching the glow of the outlines fade. She had spent what felt like days in this room, though unbeknownst to her time did not run as it did in the outside world. What could feel as hours in these halls could be years or vice versa in Arda.

"But now it is yours again," Vairë told her slowly, "For you are Firstborn by blood and by the choice given only to one of the Peredhel." But Vezely did not respond leaving Vairë to inquire, "We have noticed, you deny nothing of your past defilements nor do you ask for forgiveness. Instead, the fear you hold are for those left behind; the distant Secondborn of whom these tapestries speak."

Vezely had spent her time searching the history woven of the people of Rhun, hoping for a glimpse at their present. She needed to know whether peace had come, if they had won the battle at the capital, if they had won the war, for these worries were the ones she died with. However, instead of finding answers of the present in the weavings, she discovered gaps of the past; gaps expected when ones history is written by an adversary. Desiring answers of the world she left behind, she inquired hopeful, "We were one victory away from the promise of peace. Please, I need to know the fate of my men."

"They are no longer your concern," Vairë replied firmly, "You should think of yourself now. Why is it that your future, your thoughts go not?"

Vezely briefly wondered if this was a test, though if they could already hear her thoughts it made little matter what she answered. "I know I have died, and that I am in the Halls of Mandos. I dare not think further," she told her, leaving it there.

"All the children of Ilúvatar must wait in these halls before moving on," the Valar told her, "Unless they desire to stay."

"You are given a choice?" she admitted to not knowing.

"A choice to stay indefinitely, yes. But not the choice of when to depart. That time is decided for you. I leave you now to think about the future. For we fear you believe you do not deserve one."

Her form floated off leaving Vezely bewildered. _The future._ _What future?_ The future she held onto by mere threads prior her death was now completely unstrung. She did not live to see peace resettled in Rhun or stand on the field of victory alongside her men knowing the task they fought long and suffered much for was accomplished. Nor would she ever see Cyane ascend further in rank, and help lead the nation in this new era. Never would she return West to visit the forest homeland she was taken from as a child or hear the waters of the Forest River sing within it. She would never again be in the company of those Western warriors she had the privileged of fighting alongside during the great war. And she would never ride into the tranquil forests of Ithilien, in the hopes of being in the arms of the one she promised to return to. _Legolas, I am so sorry. Please forgive me. I failed..._ she began to weep.

Mandos would find her fëa wallowing in despair over an unfulfilled goal and a broken promise. _Curious_ , he thought, observing upon her suffering. Manwë had spoken to the Doomsman of the Valar about Olórin's request; that this Elf would heal better among her estranged family on the shores of Valinor rather than within his Halls. He found it an odd proposal, seeing within her a need to forgive herself before venturing into a new life still filled with regret.

 _Forgive myself?_ The thought was suddenly implanted in Vezely's mind and she became aware of her surroundings once more. _I wanted to set things right. To aid in something greater. To do good when I have done only wrong_ , she worked through her emotions, _But it was not enough. Nothing will ever be enough._

 _Then you would condemn yourself to wait here for eternity_? The query entered her mind as did the first.

Her thoughts conflicted; she did not want that but believed she deserved it.

 _To live among the Eldar in the Blessed Realm, you must be at peace with yourself._ She realized Mandos was reading her thought as he was manipulating them, and she could now feel his presence near her. _Do you understand the peace I speak of?_ He asked more openly.

 _Peace?_ Just the word turned her thoughts to what was a fleeting moment in her past; the briefest time when she experienced peace with herself and her surroundings. It was a day spent in Ithilien with Legolas. There, she felt at peace lying under the trees, listening to the sounds of the forest, having the warmth of his body next to hers, and her hand in his. There, she felt whole.

This thought was revealing to Mandos, who indeed was searching for more to this Elf than a warlord filled with regret over an unfinished war. It was enough for him to confirm her fate.

* * *

Not long after Cyane's visit to Ithilien, Legolas travelled home to the greenwoods of Eryn Lasgalen, but it was the journey he never envisioned having to take. With his father by his side, he buried Vezely's ashes in the ceremonial grounds of their fallen kindred.

Thranduil stood at his son's side as he completed this grim task, giving him no grief for the decision that landed him here. He had remained quiet since Legolas returned with the dark news of his betrothed's demise. What he feared would happen, happened; this Easterling-Elf his son unexpectedly fell for failed her quest and left his son to despair. He wanted to be angry, and to direct his anger at her for allotting such a fate to his son. But after standing in the frigid winter air underneath the leafless trees as his son buried her ashes, he came to realize these desires were all to dismiss the fact that he knew not the correct words to consul his son's broken heart. _"If I do not come back, make sure he sails,"_ Vezely told him the night of their confrontation in Minas Tirith; a bargain wagered and one he agreed to see through.

"When will you sail?" Thranduil finally broke the silence, lightly cupping a hand on his son's shoulder.

"I will not leave my friends, not yet," he responded firmly, his eyes yet adrift.

It was at this juncture that Thranduil felt ready to confess his own plans, "I have decided to sail with you when you decide the time is right..." The king's decision was not a light one. Thranduil would be giving up his rulership over the remaining Elves of Eryn Lasgalen, and in Valinor, while he would be a great lord, such power he would not possess. But Legolas's wellbeing remained his top priority. In Valinor he would see to it that his son was healed of grief; that this brief love affair became only a fleeting memory in the long span of time. The king did not believe nor hold onto hope as his son did for Vezely's re-embodiment.

Legolas and his father did not sail until after the death of Aragorn...

* * *

_[The Grey Havens, Year 120 of the Fourth Age]_

...Legolas slowly lifted the heavy lid of an intricately carved cedar trunk he had brought with him from Ithilien. Within was assembled the remnants of his Middle Earth life that he would journey with to Valinor. He attempted to organize the various odds and ends that got shuffled around during the trip there, one by one taking out the books and his formal robes realizing he would need to re-fold them. But after pulling several out, he found on the bottom, seemingly forgotten, the dark plum Rhunic style gown that Vezely wore to Aragorn's coronation so long ago. His breath caught in his throat and his fingers apprehensively ran across the delicate fabric before pulling it from the trunk towards him, finding underneath it the gold tip of her general's sword peeking out. He breathed in deeply before slowly bringing the fabric to his cheek, closing his eyes and trying to imagine what she looked like wearing it the night before she departed Minas Tirith for Rhun.

He had not let his thoughts stray to Vezely for some time, finding himself too lost in grief over the passing of Aragorn that he could not also face the dread of leaving these shores and not finding her upon the ones he set sailed to. His grief increasingly became mingled with fear. As more of his mortal friends passed over the years, the weight of both his present and future wore heavily on him. The Elf needed to sail. His father knew this; all members of the colony in Ithilien knew this. In Valinor, they said he would be healed of his broken heart. In Valinor, they said he would feel at peace again. Yet for him, the possibility of bliss in Valinor was not in the perfection of the land itself, but in the possibility of being reunited with the one he so briefly loved and lost.

"Vezely," he whispered with tears forming in his eyes as the fabric yet touched his cheek, "I need you to be there."

* * *

...With cane in hand, the wizened dwarf slowly walked up the wooden plank to the deck of a grey ship, whose white sails were ready to be unfurled. Gimli had grown grey himself, though despite a weary body, his mind was sharp as ever, and he was ready for one last journey alongside his dear Elven companion.

"So an Elf and a Dwarf stand side by side as the last members of the Fellowship," he stated with head held high, looking in the direction of the open harbor and the glistering blue sea beyond, "Not a likely outcome considering our initial disagreements."

"Not likely at all," Legolas agreed looking out in the same direction, listening a moment to the gulls mewing above them, "But I am glad to be aside you Master Dwarf, to share in the sight of another marvel neither of us have known..."

* * *

The first breath filled her lungs with moist seaside air; the second breath filled her body with the warmth of life. Her hands greeted the touch of fine grains of sand; her eyes, the casted shadows of moonlight. Cool silk fabric fell onto her bare back, and a kind voice spoke, breaking over the sound of waves crashing behind her, "Belethiel." Rovian knelt beside her daughter and took her into her arms, wrapping the robe further around her.

"Mother?" Her eyes turned onto the face of the one who cradled her, and feeling another hand gently on the back of her head, her eyes met another's, "Father?"

"Yes child, you are finally here with us," Eluréd told her gently, as she rested her head on her mother's shoulder. Rovian's tear filled eyes met her husband's. _Finally,_ both confirmed silently, they had their daughter back.

They led her to their residence, telling her to rest until morning for it was not a slight experience being re-embodied. Vezely did not take much heed of the candle lit surroundings they walked through; the long hallways, open verandas, and spiral staircases. Upon waking, all she could remember from the evening before was the feeling of falling upon a cushioned mattress and being covered in soft linen blankets as her mother stroked her hair back and told her to sleep.

The morning sun blared through the slates of the room's white shuttered windows. Vezely sat silently in front of a mirrored vanity as her mother slowly brushed her long dark hair, reminiscing about doing the same for her when she was a child.

"You have grown into a beautiful woman," Rovian told her warmly while placing the brush down and taking two side strands of her hair and twisting and pinning them back.

Vezely, whose eyes had been downcast the entire time, finally looked up at herself in the mirror. But she did not recognize the reflection that greeted her. Gone were the gold earrings lining her earlobes, gone were the tattoos that should have peeked out from the low cut collar of the seafoam colored robe, and her dark hair, once cut bluntly shoulder length, now fell down to below her elbows.

Knowing her daughter would still be adjusting to her surroundings, she did not prod her to speak and continued to share her own thoughts, "I remember every morning brushing your hair and afterwards your father would braid it. You desired it braided after seeing the Woodland Guard pass through our village..." Vezely smiled slightly during this telling, realizing the memory was one she also held onto and cherished. "...There," Rovian praised her simple braid work, bringing her hand gently to her daughter's shoulder and speaking softly to her reflection in the mirror, "Once you're dressed, we'll tour you around the place. And your grandparents and aunt and uncle desire to meet you. But if it is too much for today, please just let me know," she squeezed her shoulder lightly before letting go.

"Mother," Vezely finally broke her silence before Rovian left the room, causing the woman's tall poised form to turn around. "Thank you," her voice cracked slightly and she shared with her a brief smile.

Having experienced re-embodiment, Rovian understood her daughter would need a period of adjustment to the sensation of being wholly fëa and hröa again. But for Vezely, the new reality was one much more surreal. Now alone, her gaze returned to her reflection in the mirror. She apprehensively brought her fingertips to her earlobe, running them down its smooth surface before moving them along a strand of her long hair. She slowly gathered her locks in full, pulling it up from her neckline and turning to confirm that her clan words were no longer marked down her spine. Letting her hair drop back down, she lifted the sleeve of her gown, finding also erased the runes on her wrist and forearm. It was her body, but the markings of her old life were gone. _Cleansed_ , the Valar she encountered, Mandos and Vairë, spoke of her needing to be cleansed before being permitted to walk in these sacred lands.

 _How long?_ Looking at her face again, the question suddenly consumed her. _How long has she been without her body? How long has time gone on around her? How long has she been dead?_ Her hand clutched her abdomen in the spot where a guard's spear had pierced it. She felt her neck where a blade hit, fatally bringing her down. _Dead._ She hesitantly looked at her hands, expecting them to be red, stained in blood, and that this was all a test and that she was still in those halls, waiting and weeping in despair. But they were not stained. Instead, they were clean and uncannily soft; gone also were the calluses on her palms which she had accumulated through years of weapon use. She clenched her fists tightly, feeling the expected pressure before feeling the relief of release.

 _Alive._ Those were truly her parents, and she sat in their home in Valinor. _Valinor. The Undying Lands._ Her eyes began scanning the high ceiling room, finding the large four poster bed she fell asleep upon, and the ceiling length white shutters with beams of bright sunlight streaming through their gaps. _"Once you're dress…"_ the sound of her mother's voice resounded in her mind as she saw the large wardrobe next to the bed, causing her to stand and set her fragile mind to accomplishing the one task laid out for her.

Pulling the wooden door open, she found inside, meticulously spaced apart, a row of floor length gowns in a myriad of jeweled tones; the style of which she had not seen since meeting members of the Elven delegation in Minas Tirith so long ago. She chose the first one on the right, a dress of periwinkle and golden brocade; though the choice was not due to preference but to the simplicity of choosing the first one in line.

Dressed in Elven refinery, Vezely headed to the white shutters lining the far wall, desiring to see the view that the sunlight streamed in from. With a light tug, the wooden slates slid and folded to the sides easily, revealing behind them a terrace veranda overlooking the seascape and beach below. Stepping outside, her eyes squinted from the light pouring down from the sun, but adjusting she looked upon the glistening crystal waters, the white sparkling sands, and the perfect blue sky above. Gulls could be heard mewing in the distance. _Perfection._ The view was breathtaking, but her thoughts returned to where they were before. _How long? How long has she been without her body? How long has time gone on around her? How long has she been dead?_

"Legolas, are you still waiting for me?" She asked in a sad whisper, "Or am I now waiting for you?"

On the beach below a group of horsemen could be seen riding along the shoreline. They were cloaked in silver and blue, and riding white stallions. She noted one of their eyes upon her, to which her own gaze narrowed.

"...Who is that Elleth?" the Noldor lord asked his riding companions, as his eyes remained glued on the vision set above him.

"I do not know," one in his company replied, bringing his horse aside him. All knew whose residence sat upon the hill, leading him to add, "Though it is said Lord Eluréd and Lady Rovian have a daughter, the youngest descendent of the great line of Elu Thingol and Melian the Maiar, but she should yet be across the sea."

"But no ships have sailed into the harbor for years," the lord replied with common knowledge, for steadily the Moriquendi had stopped migrating to these lands. Many arrived between the two great wars and after the transition to the Fourth Age and the dominion of Men, many more had made the decision to leave Middle Earth and live with their already departed kin.

"Then perhaps she came from the Halls," his companion replied seemingly unconcerned with his lord's interest, for it had become difficult to keep track of all those who were re-populating of Valinor over the years.

"I want to know who she is," the lord declared, finding himself surprised and slightly intrigued as his lingering gaze of admiration was met with one of hostile suspicion.


	54. The Daughter of Eluréd and Rovian

Rovian gently took her daughter's arm and remained close to her side while escorting her through the long hallways to the wing's central courtyard where her father anxiously awaited them.

Eluréd stood from a cushioned white wicker chair and approached her, taking both of her hands in his own, "We are overwhelmed with joy that you will be in our lives again," he said sincerely, finding himself amazed to look upon the face of his only child now grown into a woman.

Vezely looked down at the warm hands clasping her own before allowing her eyes to look into her father's strangely familiar grey ones, "I did not expect this. I thought..."

"Thought you were condemned to wait for eternity in those Halls," Eluréd confirmed softly, "But there were many who spoke on your behalf, reaffirming that you are not deserving of such a long period of waiting."

Vezely shook her head side to side slowly, her thoughts yet confounded, "How long?" She returned to the question weighing heavily on her mind, "How long was I in there?"

"Time does not work the same within those Halls. What can feel as years here, can seem as mere days inside," he explained carefully before divulging anymore.

"Then what year is it now?" she asked, her concern heightened by a non-direct answer.

Eluréd looked apprehensively at Rovian before answering, "By Middle Earth records, it is the year 120 of the Fourth Age."

"One hundred and twenty?" Vezely spoke the numbers slowly in lieu of a gasp as her eyes diverted in thought, "Seventy-eight years," she quickly calculated back to the last year she lingered with her troops in the deserts of the Dark Lands. It had not felt that long; months maybe, but not years.

Her father moved his hands to her forearms as if believing he needed to steady her from shock, "The Valar still desired that time ran here while you waited to be..." He paused uncertain how to word it.

"To be released," she replied guessing the word she believed he held back. Her expression was momentarily one of disapproval with the Halls feeling like a correctional facility, but she quickly neutralized any ill thoughts. She didn't desire to express antipathy, especially not on her first day re-embodied.

"The important thing is that you are whole again," Rovian spoke encouragingly while placing a hand on her back, "It is a new life, and one you can make the most of here where there is no war or sorrow, and where you have family." Vez turned her eyes on her mother's face; the kindness and warmth radiating from her blue-green eyes, the small curve of her soft smile, and her comforting voice were exactly as she remembered.

"You can start anew, Bellethiel," Eluréd added carefully, "You have been pardoned of your past. It need not hinder your path to happiness."

Moving her gaze back to her father, Vezely overlooked being called her childhood name for her parents only knew her as Bellethiel. "You are both right, I can start anew," she finally confirmed, lightening her tone and forcing a smile to help show that she was indeed grateful and would for now, forgo asking anymore questions despite holding them.

"Come," Rovian told her gently, again hooking her arm around her shoulders, "We will show you your new home..."

They toured her around the expanses of the old chateau whose architecture held a seamless blend of open and closed space with its myriad of fountain-filled courtyards and terraced verandas overlooking the coast in front and the green forests behind. Its high ceilings and windowed rooms held a richness which Vezely had never seen. She had heard Elven societies in Imladris and Lothlorien held such splendor and beauty, so perhaps she should not have been surprised that in Valinor it was the same.

They passed several servants dressed in similarly styled long blue robes, who greeted them with cheer and politeness leaving Rovian to afterwards explain the extent of the family's status and fortune, "...The larger grounds which stretch to the beaches below and into the forest behind us belongs to the heirs of Thingol and Melian...This is the House of Dior and you will be recognized as a member of it...I know it is a far cry from the humble life our small family lived in Mirkwood's northern forests..."

Vezely had not even thought back that far. For her, the lifestyle this villa and its surrounding lands provided was a farther cry from the life of a general in Rhun who lived in drafty canvas tents, ate meager rations of jerky and gruel, and had to break freezing mud or dried dirt off her boots each evening in order to keep her sleeping space somewhat presentable.

The rose gardens they passed through provided a vantage point into the dense forests behind them, which to Vezely bore some semblance to the edges of Ithilien. "Those forests," she asked as her heart rekindled warm memories, "You said they belong to this House as well?"

Eluréd noted her wandering gaze. She had appeared underwhelmed by the rose gardens since they entered when all others who had been toured there would stare and marvel at them for hours. "Only until the stream's crossing," he told her, "But beyond that point resides a colony of Sindarin and Silvan Elves who have crossed over from our homeland in Mirkwood and yet desire to live under the protection of Lord Oropher."

"Oropher?" Vez's eyes widened slightly, confirming, "He is the father of King Thranduil."

"That is correct," Rovian answered, observing her daughter's face and gauging her contained curiosity, "But King Thranduil does not reside there. We have heard he emerged victorious from the last great war, but he has not yet crossed over. Though his wife lives in those forests."

 _Legolas's mother_ , Vezely realized before proceeding to ask another desired question, "And his son? Has he yet crossed over into these lands?"

"Prince Legolas?" Rovian tilted her head slightly surprised to hear Thranduil's son being mentioned, "You know of him?"

Vezely stiffened slightly before replying in order to appear unconcerned, "I fought alongside him during the war."

"That is right," Rovian embarrassingly corrected her forgetfulness, "We heard you traveled with members of the famed Fellowship and played a part in its ending." Warm smiles stretched across both their faces, stirred from parental pride. While they knew only the broad outlines of her dark past, they had heard from Gandalf and Lord Elrond of deeds from her more recent and nobler endeavors. Vez diverted her eyes downward, unsure how to react to their praise. Noting her discomfort, Rovian returned to the question, "Prince Legolas has not crossed either. But we should make your introduction to Lord Oropher. He would indeed be pleased to hear such tales concerning his grandson."

Vezely simply nodded in reply, willing to passively agree to anything this day. Internally, as they continued to walk, she came to the uncomfortable realization that while she may be waiting for him, Legolas, far away in Middle Earth, probably had no knowledge of her whereabouts. _Does he know that I died? Why is he not here? Is he alright? Perhaps he moved on?_

The rose gardens connected to another section of the chateau, where her grandparents, Dior and Nimloth, held their residence. There they would be joined by her uncle, Elurín, and his Telerin wife, Airossúrë, for brunch in their grand courtyard.

"...Your father will introduce you, and it is expected that you do not speak until invited to..." Rovian explained on the way, garnering a confused look from her daughter. "Do not worry, it is only custom. Believe me when I say this family is truly nothing but accepting," Rovian seemed to speak from experience, "And they are excited to meet you..."

Dior, who had such lofty titles as being 'The Noble,' 'The Fair,' and 'The Wealthy,' sat stoically at the head of a long table. He looked kingly, reminding Vezely of her first meeting with King Thranduil. To his right sat Nimloth, an Elf of long dark raven colored hair, dressed in a purple gown with silver beading on the collar which complimented the grey robes of her partner.

"Father," Eluréd nodded politely, "May I present to you my daughter, Bellethiel."

Vezely instinctively placed a fist to her chest and bowed her head down in Easterling fashion, and when looking up she expected coolness, a steely gaze, a raised up chin, but instead she was greeted with a warm, inquisitive smile, as if the Eldar appeared pleased by her appearance.

"Welcome, Bellethiel," Dior spoke in a calm, crystal clear voice after rising from his chair. "We are glad to finally make your acquaintance and to welcome a new member to our residence. Please sit."

All eyes followed her as she made her way with her parents to their place at the table. There, two different sized gold-flecked, white porcelain plates were stacked upon each other and several silver forks and spoons and fluted glassware were meticulously laid out alongside them. An overly elaborate table setting for a brunch, Vezely considered when sitting down.

"She has the bearing of my father," Dior spoke after Vezely sat. His father was Beren, a mortal man. "It is true then, that you were indeed raised by Men." Vezely looked noticeably uncertain about this admission, and she shifted slightly in her seat. Dior picked up on this discomfort and added to ease her wariness, "I, the son of a mortal Man, do not find such a bearing offensive, nor the addition of a warrior to our house." Vezely blinked, before ducking her head down briefly in humility, still wondering whether she heard the lord's praise correctly. Then adding in interest, "What was the name that Master Olórin called you upon his first visit?"

She looked at her father not knowing who this 'Master Olórin' was, and he gave her Gandalf's Sindarin moniker, "He speaks of Mithrandir, my child," also providing her a raise of his eyebrows implying she was free to answer Dior.

Knowing Gandalf had used her Rhunic name in their presence did much to boast her confidence in telling it proudly. "My name is Vezely. It is of Rhunic origin, spoken in the dialect of the Balchoth clan in which I was raised."

"It is a unique name," Nimloth spoke calmly, still smiling upon her warmly, "Does it hold meaning in this language?"

Vez nodded, "It means the dawn's disappearing sun," forgoing any further explanation.

"It is not uncommon to have other names," Nimloth quickly replied still cheerful, speaking afterwards with her face to Dior, "With the varied dialects of Valinor, none would know this name hails from so far away."

"Though they could wrongly suspect it being of Avarin origin," Elurín spoke to his mother assuredly, "Best not to use such a name in formal occasions..."

Vez's eyes darted to the Elf who looked similar, though not completely identical to her father. He had a different air about him; he spoke in a sharper pitch and held his chin up just slightly. She found this an odd comment, wondering what 'Avarin origin' conjured in Valinor dwellers' minds, though she suspected it was negative.

Dior responded, "Does the child have a preference?"

Child; to be called this in a casual, non-condescending manner still managed to bring Vezely annoyed pause, though she knew for those born in the First Age, she was a child to their eyes. Vezely took a moment to consider her phrasing, desiring not to offend her parents. "I am new to being called Bellethiel and will falter in responding to it. But it is my only Elvish name and I would not force those who gave me it to use another. Though by all others, I prefer to be called Vezely."

Dior pursed his lips together and all awaited his reply, and Vezely realized that he probably often made decisions for the household. "At formal events and during introductions you will be Bellethiel. It is friendlier to the tongue of our acquaintances who perhaps speak neither Westron nor Sindarin. But seeing as you have your own acquaintances in Valinor, and high ones at that, I do not expect your Mannish name to go unheeded."

Vezely was not about to argue, instead she ducked her head in acceptance.

Brunch was served, and her uncle began ruminating on preparations taking place for an upcoming festival. His Telerin wife, Airossúrë, did not speak the entire brunch, and instead appeared content to gaze upon Vezely as if she was a curious spectacle; watching the way she held her utensils, noting the size of the bites of food she forked, the way she kept awkwardly pushing back her long sleeves, and how she left her glass of white wine untouched. Vezely noticed her interest and provided her a curious look of her own.

"Do you sing my dear?" Nimloth asked Vez who was in mid-glare, causing her to quickly redirect her attention.

"No." Vez replied curtly while continuing to eat her food.

"Then perhaps you play an instrument?" Nimloth amended politely.

Vezely silently shook her head side to side; well-aware it was uncommon for Elves who had the time and the patience to become proficient in some if not all of the fine arts.

"Then I shall teach you, as I did your mother. She became a fine player of the harp with enough practice..." she confided, causing Vez to grow curious of her own mother's introduction and assimilation into this family as a Silvan Elf.

Growing mildly concerned by his mother's known persistence, Eluréd interrupted, "Perhaps our daughter is not interested in playing the harp or singing, and that of course, is her choice. Her first day is overwhelming enough and she should take time in deciding her new endeavors."

"Of course, my son. Though she needs to understand that as an unwed heir of the line of Luthien Tinúviel, she will be expected to hold such talents and called upon to perform them..." Nimloth began to explain calmly, now noting Vezely's curious stare.

Forgetting about being observed, Vezely switched to being an observer and her parents in particular could sense a change in her demeanor. It was surreal, to find herself in high Elven society, being escorted through immaculate rose gardens, greeted by doting servants, and served artistically plated food on fine porcelain. It could have made her feel incompetent and further removed from any reality in which she could function, but sitting there listening to her grandmother made her realize Valinor yet contained the awkward family relationships and farcical public facades, that Elves were perfect only in concept, and it did much to ease her feeling of unworthiness around them. This was a world of difference and one full of traditions, rules, and expectations she would undoubtedly need to maneuver through, but as worries they held little consequence. And as she thought more about it, none of it mattered. These were trivial compared to the worries she left behind, and to the worries she yet held in her heart for another.

Though she did gather that this family was protective of their own. All of them had been through tragedy in Middle Earth, meeting untimely and tragic deaths, and in Valinor they sought only a peaceful existence, even if that meant having to uphold a certain appearance to Valinorian society. They believed it would be best that in public Vezely simply assimilate in appearance and attitude to High Elvish culture. They thought it would be the only way the public would not question her or her past, and thus leave her and them in peace. Should she simply acquiesce to this?

* * *

"...We should have asked what you desired to be called," Rovian apologized as they found their way back to their side of the chateau.

Vezely shook her head and took one of each of her parent's hands in her own, "I am your Bellethiel, and I would not ask you to call me by another's name. But I admit it is a name that I am not accustomed to, and I am even farther removed from this life now laid out before me."

"You do not need to conform to anyone's expectations," Eluréd told her concerned, "We just want you to be content."

"I will be, in time," Vezely replied slowly, adding, "But I am feeling tired, if I could rest..."

* * *

Vezely returned to her room and passed the afternoon on her balcony, wrapped in one of the padded quilts from her bed while sitting cross legged on the floor. The blanket was not needed for any coolness in temperature, since the sea breeze was mild and the sun's rays unclouded. Instead, having been without a body in the Halls, she discovered comfort of having weight upon her; finding some security in feeling closed in. She unconsciously rubbed the spot on her one finger where the silver betrothal ring used to sit; it had become a habit of hers to spin it when she was removed in thought. Its absence was unduly noted.

Before dawn, a small knock at the door was followed by her father's kind voice asking if everything was alright. Rather than turning him away, she invited him in; telling him her location on the balcony.

Eluréd stalled briefly when noting her odd position sitting cross legged on the ground. But desiring to adjust to her needs, he, albeit uncomfortably, took a seat next to her.

She turned her head and provided him a brief smile, amused at his awkward and inelegant attempt to mimic her position, before returning her gaze outward to the sea which began reflecting the golden colors of the sunset. "It is beautiful here," Vezely sparked the conversation to forgo giving him any unease, "It has been some time since I tarried by the sea."

"It is even more beautiful walking along the shoreline," he told her also admiring the view, adding as advice, "I find it a good place to think."

"I may find myself there soon then," Vez replied quietly, smiling slightly at his mild guidance.

Eluréd told her calmly, "Do whatever you need to center yourself again."

"Yes, that is how I feel, off-centered," she said realizing it was the best word to explain it, "All of this is surreal. Despite my time in the Halls, it is as if it has only been mere months since I was Far Rhun, chained to a wall of the prisons of my enemy, keeping track of the days, and holding hope that my men would see it through. That we would win. And I still know not what happened. All I know is that none are now of this world."

"You should grieve for them," Eluréd told her, "Mourn their passing, and perhaps, we can find someone who does know what happened."

She looked at him grateful, and nodded once to show she would do so. "It is the same," she said warmly after looking again to the setting sun, "The feeling of sitting by your side."

"Except now I doubt you desire that I recite you a poem, or braid your hair," Eluréd joked slightly, remembering the assertive six year old who requested much of his time, and his inability to deny her requests.

She smiled, but confided a strange desire, "But I would not mind hearing a poem from our homeland."

Finding himself glad to again be a needed father, Eluréd purposefully chose one of great length which spoke of the oldest trees in their home woods and their first tenders. Vezely closed her eyes and imagined herself there, forgetting for a time her unease and finding comfort in the sound of her father's voice...

...Before Eluréd left her room, he told her as added encouragement, "The beaches are quiet most of the day, though you may encounter Noldorin lords riding their horses up the coastline in the early mornings."

* * *

"...Should we be worried," Rovian asked her husband, as they peered out from their room's balcony, watching their daughter wander barefoot up and down the beaches below, gathering up pearls from the sands and tossing them back into the ocean tide.

"She needs time," Eluréd returned, sensing as his wife that her heart needed healing.

A week passed by with Vezely spending her afternoons listlessly walking the pearl-strewn beaches and her evenings seated on the floor of her balcony gazing up at the stars above her. The distant orbs seemed to glisten brighter there than she had seen in her past half decade in Rhun, and brighter still than her brief stay in the West. But she had become even more reticent, worrying her parents slightly. In truth, she was faltering in finding her center while grieving for her men whose fate she knew not.

...That day was planned a family trip south to the port of Alqualondë to attend a festival. What the festival was celebrating Vezely did not know, though she gathered there were an abundance of these events throughout the year. It would be the first time she would make a public appearance alongside her esteemed family.

She sat at the mirrored vanity, and in one hand she clasped half of her just brushed hair and in the other, a pair of open scissors moving to cut its length at her shoulders. Before she snipped, however, her mother's voice called to her, "Are you ready dear?"

"Just a minute," she called releasing a nervous breath, forgoing her hair cutting intentions and sliding the scissors under a towel on the vanity yet uncertain whether to use them later. She hastily tied the mass of hair back into a low ponytail before going to grab one of her riding cloaks from the wardrobe.

After she put the grey cloak over her shoulders, she opened the door to find her mother dressed immaculately in a moss green gown with matching cloak, looking her up and down while biting her lip.

"What?" Vez asked concerned by her expression, gathering something was wrong.

"You should wear the matching cloak that goes with that gown," she told her.

"Matching cloak?" Vezely repeated the words slowly, not realizing there was one that matched, "Right." She turned back to the wardrobe to go grab it, though while there she ended up shuffling back and forth through the rack not knowing which cloak actually paired with her blue gown.

Sensing her uncertainty, her mother quickly went to her aid, pulling the one whose brocade matched, though it was not of the same color.

"Are you sure you do not desire me to do your hair?" Her mother had asked the evening before if she needed assistance, and now seeing her hastily pulled back ponytail decided to ask again.

Knowing she would be traveling with her grandparents, as well as her uncle and aunt, led Vezely to acquiesce to her assistance, as she returned to the vanity with her mother following.

"Do not fret," Rovian comforted her while brushing her hair, believing her daughter flustered, "It will not be as horrible as you think..."

The day before Vezely had a long chat with her mother on her first experiences in this household; coming from her simple forest home in Mirkwood to this lavish lifestyle threw her through a similar loop. "...They do care about heritage. All in Valinor do..." she detailed the issues with her Silvan background, "It will always be an aid to how people perceive you, but you are lucky, this House is favored and it will only aid in your welcoming..." Though Vezely did not fully register the extent to which her new family heritage would dictate her dealings until they reached the Telerin port of Alqualondë.

On the horse ride south, her uncle made the comment that Vezely rode in a Mannish manner, though Dior was quick to reply to his son that he rode like a young Elleth, bringing him some embarrassment and making Vez smirk for the first time since her re-embodiment. Riding a horse also provided her some familiar enjoyment. They had her on a white mare that was quite calm, but who Vezely knew would make a rather pathetic war horse.

The bustling harbor city's white walls and pillared gateways were decorated with flowers and garlands in preparation for the evening's light festival. It appeared similar in function to the many port towns Vezely had seen in her life, though in delicate architecture and cleanliness, it was something of a marvel. Along its docks there would be feasting, singing, and dancing under the stars along with the lighting of paper lanterns into the harbor. While often these events were to honor the Valar, it was also a time to reconnect and enjoy the company of friends.

"...And this is my granddaughter, Bellethiel," Dior introduced her to his acquaintances as they paraded down the docks.

Rovian spent the time whispering in her daughter's ear explanations of who these Elves were and the reputation of their Houses after they left. "...They are wealthy in the trade of cut gems...They own half of the fishing docks here..." And Vezely simply bowed her head down politely with each introduction, not only uninterested in engaging them, but unable to understand or speak in the languages being used. She hadn't realized Sindarin was only the common tongue of Elves in Middle Earth, while in Valinor it was used only in certain pockets. While Alqualondë was the main city of the Teleri, it was not uncommon to also find Noldor among them for purposes of trade or other business. The Vanyar, her mother explained as they walked to where they would dine, were less inclined to mix with the other clans and stayed in their city of Taniquetil, which lay beneath the halls of Manwë.

It was then that a Noldorin company approached them for introduction, and Vezely realized immediately it contained many of the riders she often spotted trotting along her family's beach in the early mornings.

Her mother explained quietly as the Noldorin lord spoke to Dior, "That is Prince Arakáno, he is the fourth child Fingolfin..." Vezely could tell her grandfather was considering a request from the prince.

"Bellethiel," Dior held his hand toward her as invitation to come to his side, "May I present to you Prince Arakáno, from the House of Fingolfin."

"My lady," speaking in Sindarin, Arakáno bowed his head down and offered her his hand, "Would you honor me with your company on a walk?

Vezely's eyes immediately shifted to her grandfather's, finding them silently encouraging her to accept the request rather than dismiss it; his stern gaze practically implying it would be rude not to. Not wanting to create tension, Vez accepted, though she did not take his hand and kept hers clasped together as she stepped aside him.

Eluréd immediately approached his father, confiding his concern, "I do not think it wise to have her courted so soon after her return."

Still observing the couple walk away, Dior spoke to his son less worried, "It will happen at some point and to further display her willing assimilation and ease her transition into this society, should we not assist in finding her partnership? Besides, I would not refuse a member of this House..."

The tall, dark haired prince led Vezely down the pier where they could get a better view of the floating lanterns below, and hear the song of the Elves who sang there. He seemed hesitant to engage in conversation, as Vez remained content to play aloof as she stopped and peered out at the lights bobbing along the calm dark waters below.

"They are magical are they not?" he finally spoke observing the side of her face, and after straightening his posture he added, "You must forgive my apprehension. All believed the line of Luthien Tinúviel was spent, so to suddenly discover this is not the case and that her vision stands before me, stalls my speech."

She raised an eyebrow, struggling to discern whether he was being sarcastic, but she realized he was serious. _They truly did not know about her past._ "I am no Luthien," she replied bluntly, hoping not to accrue any more of his attempts at smooth talk, "So speak free of flattery or do not speak at all."

He smiled intrigued albeit slightly surprised by her abruptness, and he was reminded of her steely gaze from her balcony the week before. "You are modest," he said turning his eyes to the lights on the water below, misinterpreting the reason for her brutal response, "Though no doubt as you hold the beauty of your line, you hold the talents also. You need not be embarrassed by mild praise, my lady."

Her mother and grandmother was right, Vezely realized, those who knew nothing of her past would hold certain expectations of her and her abilities based off her bloodline alone. As he awaited her response, she also began to ascertain that this odd invitation was in fact an attempt by this Noldorin lord to court her and that her grandfather just handed her off as if she were to play a doting Lady Adele. Feeling a bit disgusted by this, she decided to end it there, "Your praise is misplaced, my lord, for I do not hold the talents I assume you speak of," she looked at him seriously, "Unless you consider psychological warfare and torture among such talents," as his brow furled believing he misheard her, she smiled sweetly, "Now if you would excuse me, this walk was a mistake." Vezely immediately left the confounded prince's side, a smirk on her face and a swagger in her walk; she knew she probably overstepped and said too much, but she felt more like herself in that very moment than she had all week. On the way back up the pier, from afar she spotted a familiar old wizard parting the crowds he walked through.

"Gandalf!" Vezely picked up her pace moving towards the wizard, only to stall her steps, click her feet together, and provide him a proper Easterling greeting by placing a fist to her chest and tilting her chin down low.

"My dear," he spoke to her using Westron, "If not for your stance I would of hardly recognized you," Gandalf then laughed cheerfully, his heart joyful to see the young Elf again.

"I hardly recognize myself. But," she clenched a bit of her skirt's fabric, adding in contained discomfort with it, "This is adjusting."

"Hmm," he considered gruffly, "Don't adjust too much my dear." He brought a hand around the back of her shoulders and guided her to walk aside him, "The plan was not for you to change, only for your surroundings to."

"But I do not know who I without my surroundings, without my responsibilities," she told him concerned. "I need to know what happened to my men, Gandalf. What happened in Rhun after my death?"

He stopped and cupped a hand on her shoulder. He had feeling this would weigh heavily on her mind and regretted not coming to see her sooner; desiring to allow her the first week to hopefully bond with her long lost family. He spoke carefully, "They won the war, Vezely, and peace was reestablished in Rhun." Her eyes wavered on his, uncertain whether to place truth in his words. "You accomplished the task you set out for. You brought peace to Rhun."

Vez gritted her teeth, and to disallow any tears to fall, she breathed in steadily and blinked them dry.

Gandalf smiled warmly, finding her emotions proof that the Valar listened to him and he confided, "It is comforting to know that you have not been removed from your past. It is as I desired, for your time in those Halls to not cleanse you, instead, to have you adjust here, among loved ones. And in time, you will be fine. Just fine. But now, there is one who has been waiting to meet you."

He continued leading her down the pier as many stopped and respectfully bowed to the esteemed Maiar as they walked. Under a garland strung gazebo awaited a tall figure, cloaked in blue raiment. He stood straight and had his hands clasped together under the long sleeves of his robes

Her mouth was agape while his formed a proud smile to look upon one of his prized pupils.

"Rómestámo?" Vez spoke the Blue Istari's name as if she looked upon a false vision.

"That I am, young Elf," he called her by his pet name, using their familiar Easterling dialect.

She smiled briefly before bringing a fist to her chest and tilting her head down, then disregarding the delicate gown, she crouched onto one knee in a pose one only gives to their master to display gratitude. She never expected to see him again; to have the opportunity to thank him for all he did for her during the difficult years of her transition.

"Arise," the Maiar scolded her slightly, "Your presence here is gratitude enough for the trouble you caused me..."

Vezely would spend the better part of the evening speaking with Rómestámo on the dealings in Rhun after her departure, and relaying her own experience after the war. "...I searched for you," she told him of her first year after leaving Minas Tirith. She learned that while he departed Middle Earth, his partner, Morinehtar, fled to the Orocani Mountains and that his whereabouts were yet unknown, though he suspects he settled in with the Avari who are content to stay in that region. It was comforting to gain some closure on this chapter of her life, to discover these two powers had not disappeared from existence.

"...We knew you had it in you, even if you did not know that yourself..." he told her reminiscing of the curt Easterling who gave him nothing but grief the years she spent in his presence.

Many bore witness to the daughter of Eluréd and Rovian speaking in a strange tongue to this Maiar, thus garnering curiosity of who she was outside of her House; who she was before leaving Middle Earth.

"...Perhaps we need not worry about perceptions," Dior spoke to his son and daughter-in-law when witnessing this interaction from the terrace above, "She will fit in on her own terms..."

* * *

"Can you see it Gimli?" Legolas called optimistically to his short friend as he peered out from the deck of the grey ship, "There is land ahead."

"Land?" Gimli scoffed, squinting his brown eyes in the same direction, "I can see nothing but stars amid darkness."

"No Gimli, there is the harbor, and a port beyond with lights strewn about it," Legolas replied assuredly, as he jumped onto the upper deck with spirits uplifted.

His father observed his son carefully, finding some solace that the journey there managed to bring some life back into him; as if the water and sea air cleansed him of some grief and rekindled his love of adventure. Thranduil held in his own anticipation for his reunion with his parents, and of course, his beloved wife, whom his thoughts often wandered to. As they sailed, he slowly let his past responsibilities of kingship go, exchanging them only for worries over his sons well-being. He even made no qualms about the dwarf tagging along, though he feared the impending doom which was wrought on all mortals who set foot in the Blessed Realm. _One obstacle at a time_ , he told himself, as the boat drifted into the harbor.


	55. New Arrivals

The grey ship sailed into the harbor mid-morning, floating past the evening festival's now extinguished lanterns yet bobbing up and down on the calm blue waves. In a small paddle boat collecting them were two Telerin port patrollers who waved in the new arrivals, guiding them to a dock where they could set anchor.

It was then that from high atop the pearly gates that all in Alqualondë could hear the voice of Eönwë, who was the herald of Manwë. He came from Valimar to welcome them. "Hail Thranduil, son of Oropher, steadfast king of Eryn Lasgalen...Hail Legolas, son of Thranduil, most renowned of all bowmen and Elven warrior of the Fellowship...Hail Gimi, son of Gloin, friend of the Eldar, great Dwarven warrior of the Third Age..."

Not only had Eönwë been sent to publically announce their arrival, but he had also announced it to Lord Oropher and his people, and to Lord Elrond, Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn, so they would make the journey from Tirion to welcome the travelers that morning. Being in Tirion during the past evening's festival, Gandalf also stood proudly next to his friends awaiting them.

The sun smiled down upon the three as they exited the grey ship, followed after with others in their company - Elves from Eryn Lasgalen and Ithilien who decided it was also time to leave Middle Earth. Gimli, with cane in hand, took a moment to find his footing on the stable dock before continuing over to Lady Galadriel who welcomed him with a shining smile.

"Ah, and indeed I look upon that which is fairest one more time," Gimli spoke in awe of the white clad She-Elf who offered him her hand.

"...My son," a golden haired Elf gently cupped her hands aside Legolas's cheeks, looking into the depths of his blue eyes, "I am so proud to be your mother..."

Legolas watched as his parents embraced, his heart warmed to see his father in the much needed arms of the one his heart belonged to. He knew her absence pained him greatly, and through the years, as his kingdom grew dark and faltered under Shadow he grew more in need of her comfort. But he was strong, stronger than most, and able to endure this painful separation for the sake of his kingdom and his people; knowing that it was only a short amount of time in the vast eternity that Elves were given to walk Arda.

He admitted to having grown envious of his father's temporal viewpoint, for it should be the same for him and the one he loved. Though with Vezely, her fate was not so certain and the Valar had every right to deny her the same vast expanse of time for the evil deeds she committed. Upon exiting the grey ship, Legolas of course noted she was not there among the esteemed Elves sent to greet them, and as his mother embraced him a second time, she could sense, as any mother would, that behind his proud facade lay a grieving heart.

"Your heart is heavy my son," she spoke engaging his eyes again, and taking his hand she saw upon his finger both of the family's pure silver betrothal rings set upon it. "Here you seek a love you think forever lost..."

Yet it was a time of celebration and Legolas observed with gladness as Gimli was escorted by Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn down the docks; to see his steadfast friend make a journey none of his race had ever made. The Elves who stood there to greet them marveled at the sight of a Dwarf honored so highly, though rightly so for the Fellowship's deeds were well-known and its members well-respected in Valinor; songs had already been written and were often sung to honor them.

Lord Elrond joined Legolas's side as they followed the company. "Valinor welcomes you Legolas," he told him joyfully, "And there is another who would welcome you more." Legolas's uncertain eyes turned to meet the sage Elf's grey ones. "Mithrandir spoke to me this morning. It has been but one week since Vezely has been released from the Halls of Mandos."

Legolas halted his steps, his eyes wavering as Elrond's words seemed to clutter in his mind before being processed. "You speak the truth," replying as revelation and realization, "Where? Where can I find her?"

"She resides with her family in the House of Dior, a beachside villa an hour north of here. I sent a letter just this morning asking her presence, but she must not have received it. Please tell her," Elrond added cheerfully before Legolas continued on to spread the news to his family, "That I will come to visit soon."

"Father," Legolas called to him before catching up aside him, "She is here, in Valinor," he declared as if short of breath.

Thranduil's stoic face queried his son's sanity before believing him. Pushing back his own desire to question why she was not there on the docks in Alqualondë to greet them, he thought only for his son's obvious needs, "Then you should go to her..."

... After hearing that his grandson would forgo the accolades awaiting them in the harbor city in order to ride north to find his betrothed in the House of Dior, Oropher took some time in responding. "It was rumored that Lord Eluréd had a daughter," he turned from Legolas to look at his wife who knew the rumors he spoke of, "And that this daughter was a servant of Sauron."

"Was." Legolas replied quickly, his eyes strained, his heart eager, "And pardoned of all her deeds, for she resides here now."

He gauged the importance this reunion held to his grandson, and Oropher was not about to stand in his way, "It is a respected house. I am happy for you and," he smiled slightly, "I understand your urgency..."

Thus, the House of Oropher traveled together to House of Dior. Spent from the long journey overseas, Gimli agreed to stay behind in Alqualondë, but only if Vezely promised a visit soon.

* * *

Vezely returned to her room in her family's beachside chateau, finding that in her brief absence it had been swept of the sand she tracked in from the beach, her bed had been made with fresh linens, her clothes laundered and re-hung in her wardrobe, and everything was immaculately reordered to the way it was the first day she saw it. Gone too were the scissors she had hidden on the vanity, which, in fairness, she had snuck from the maid's sewing quarters the day before.

She threw her riding cloak on top of the bed and plopped herself down next to it, her eyes staring up at the white crown molding which spanned the corners of the high ceiling above. She was quiet on the horse ride home that evening, her mind processing all she learned from the two Maiars concerning the pardon given to her by the Valar and the peace Rhun found after her death. It was as if a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders; perhaps all those years spent in war were not in vain. She wondered whether Cyane survived the battle of the capital and experienced this peacetime, for the child was born into war and had never known peace. Though she regretfully knew this was something she may never be able to find out.

She closed her eyes and listened to the not so distant waves crashing along the shoreline. She began matching her breathing with the rhythm as her mind pondered, _Now what? Where do I go from here?_ Her old life was gone. Over the last week she tried to deal with this reality, mourning the passing of her men along with the passing of everything she had ever known. No longer was she the general of legions, developing war strategies, giving orders, and fighting in battles. Her body no longer held the proud appearance of a Balchoth; the tattoos which reflected the honor she accrued as a warrior were all erased. Her current raiment of fine silk gowns and lacy undergarments did not mark her as a soldier in the Reunited Easterling Coalition, with their characteristic black pants and hooded overcoats. Missing also was the scarf or headband she would always wear to cover her Elf ears in order to make her appearance less distinct among men. Her straight, dark hair had never been this long that when she rested she remained unsure how to keep it from getting utterly tangled or caught underneath her when she moved about. She wondered whether the hands once skilled at the sword and sai, should find themselves pulling harp strings as her grandmother desired, or if her strong voice that barked orders should make song instead. She was Bellethiel in her appearance, her location, and in her new responsibilities as member of the House of Dior, but she realized that she remained Vezely in mind.

One tear fell from the corner of each of her eyes, trickling down the sides of her face as she continued to stare wide-eyed at the ceiling; it was as if they materialized the relief she felt coming to this realization. _Don't adjust too much_ , Gandalf told her the evening before on the docks of Alqualondë; an admission that now gave her hope of being able to somehow fit into this new world. The Valar forgave her; she was allowed to start over, to build a life here with her kin, and still be herself. Otherwise, as Gandalf mentioned, she would feel more removed from her past and those Halls would have cleansed her of all regret and uncertainty.

 _If only you were here, Legolas,_ she whispered. _It would be easier to start over with you, like I had planned to in Ithilien._

Rovian came calling with a letter addressed to her, but Vezely did not move when she told her mother to enter. She placed the letter on the small writing desk and sat down next to her on the bed. She brushed a strand of hair from her forehead gently, "Is everything alright?"

The gentle eyes and kind face looking down upon her was the one she remembered seeing tucking her into bed every night as a child. She knew so little about her mother but now had a second chance to be with again. A small smile formed on her face and she nodded, "Much is better after last night."

Rovian took her daughter's hand, hoping her words were true. Mithrandir spoke to her and her husband when Vezely was conversing with the Blue Istari. He mentioned she expressed some discomfort in adjusting, further prompting Rovian's need to reaffirm her desire to assist her in this transition, "We are here for you, your father and I. If there is anything we can do to..."

Vezely sat up next to her, "Mother, everything is fine," she tried to hush her worry.

"Please," Rovian wrapped her other hand around the one she still held, "Please, do not shut us out."

"I do not mean to," Vezely knew she had been getting progressively quieter as the days passed, never telling her parents her true thoughts or woes, "I just...I do not easily fit in here."

"Then could we adjust here to help fit you?" she asked hopeful.

Vezely shook her head in disbelief over how understanding her mother was. She realized she needed to be honest. Her parents were truly there for her and she could trust them. "Maybe just some small changes," she confided unsure. "Such as, I may want some pants in my wardrobe. My hair is too long and if I cut it, I do not want admonishment. And I do not want to learn the harp," she broke a smile with Rovian after saying this, for she knew her mother had not wanted to learn the harp either but her mother-in-law insisted. "And," finding herself becoming more serious for Vezely knew she needed to tell her this to avoid its reoccurrence, "I prefer not to ever be courted."

"Ah, your father and I wanted to apologize for your grandfather's scheming," Rovian answered, inwardly relieved all these changes were tenable. "It is possible others may come to call because of your standing. You do not need to answer them, but I hope," Rovian pulled her hand closer, telling her sincerely, "I hope you have not shut your heart to someday finding partnership."

"It is not that, I..." Vezely stalled, trying to find the courage to speak openly of what she considered an uncomfortable subject, "My heart belongs to another."

"My daughter, forgive me. I had no idea," a surprised look overtook Rovian's usually calm face. She suspected her daughter meant someone from the race of Man, and thus faced the tragedy of being parted from them forever. She spoke carefully, "To have loved and lost a mortal, ones heart is..."

"It is not a mortal Man that I love, mother, it is an Elf," Vezely confided to her, "I queried of his whereabouts my first day here, but he has not yet crossed to these lands."

"Prince Legolas," Rovian recalled quickly in surprise, before finding herself relieved and then overjoyed. But she did not see joy reflected in her daughter's eyes which were set downcast, and she realized immediately, "And now you fear for him."

"I promised him. I promised I would return, but I broke my promise," Vez spoke woefully, "Part of me now hopes he has moved on, instead of grieving after my death, for we both feared it would result in us being parted forever because of my sins."

"Shhh," Rovian hushed her, placing her hands on the side of her face, "The heart does not wane so easily. Do not give up hope that one day he will sail and you will be together again..."

The letter sat forgotten on the writing desk as Rovian encouraged Vezely to spend the morning gardening with her in the sunshine; hoping to share the simply joy all Woodelves found in nurturing nature. Vezely remembered her family had a small garden where they grew fresh herbs and that her mother often spent the mornings there, taking her time tending them and singing as she did. While the rote tasks she was given calmed Vezely, more calming was being beside her mother and watching her doing something she loved.

"...Like this," her mother placed her soiled hands around Vezely's, guiding hers to be gentler at the plant's roots when patting down the soil.

Vez laughed slightly, realizing she was being too rough and saying nonchalantly, "I am not good at tending life, but taking it."

Her mother looked at her apprehensively, causing Vezely to realize she had not yet been so glib among her parents yet. "Apologies," Vez added quickly, her eyes concerned, "I did not mean to offend with my words or my manner."

Her mother shook her head, realizing she was being unfair, "No, I know you are skilled at warfare. I suppose I still see that wide-eyed six year old running barefoot and jumping into piles of fallen leaves."

Vezely gently grabbed her mother's hand with her own, "She is still there too. And she is thinking of the song you used to sing to me. The Forest River song. Could you sing it again for me now?"

"If you sing it with me," Rovian returned, engaging her daughter's eyes, desiring to have the company of her voice.

Vezely knew the words and the melody, and meekly attempted to sing alongside her mother's well honed voice. Her father would overhear them from an adjacent pathway, and he closed his eyes to enjoy the moment; feeling thankful to have his daughter returned and his family whole again.

* * *

"I heard you dismissed Prince Arakáno rather abruptly last night," Dior asked after Vezely passed him in the rose gardens on her way to wash up from gardening.

"I had more important people to talk to," Vezely replied unconcerned, though still polite.

Dior smirked, "Yes you did." He slowly traced the outlines of a vibrant yellow rose with his fingers, and Vezely again found herself intrigued by the measured movements of High Elves. Yet inspecting it, he added, "He was either offended or intrigued enough to request your company again."

Vez scoffed, "Then he will be further offended or disappointed when he hears his request has been denied."

"Are you sure?" Dior turned sharply to ask her, finding himself surprised by her brasher and more forthcoming manner, "He is respected and is well liked. And considering his own family's indiscretions," he was referring the Feanorian's dealings with Morgoth in the First Age, "They would not question your own."

"That may be true, grandfather," Vezely replied straightening her posture, "But it is a match that cannot be made. I might as well tell you what I just told my parents." At the request of her mother, Vezely spoke to her father about Legolas after she finished gardening. He was as surprised as Rovian was, but also thankful. She did not know how Dior would react. "I am already engaged to another. His name is Legolas of the Woodland Realm."

Dior raised his eyebrows, "The grandson of Lord Oropher? My my, you are already well established here. And his father, Lord Thranduil, approved?" He asked knowing her ill reputation in Middle Earth.

Vez shifted slightly, "He didn't disapprove."

Dior moved to her side, saying assuredly while look down on her, "He would be a fool if he did. And I would need to remind him that his father served our house in Doriath..."

* * *

"...The great forest behind lies our home..." Legolas's mother detailed the expanses in Valinor and where Oropher and his people resided. That its beauty far outweighed anything in Middle Earth was hard to fathom before, though the scenery on the trail there proved convincing.

They entered the large wrought iron gates of the chateau and walked a pathway lined with yellow roses before approaching the entrance courtyard and its large fountain containing a statue with the visage of _Lúthien Tinúviel at_ its center. They were greeted by a grounds keeper who went to alert the family of their arrival.

That Lord Oropher had come unannounced seemed an odd occurrence, for often such meetings between esteemed High Elf families were planned in order to make proper arrangements. But it was oddly coincidental, having just heard of their daughter's engagement to his grandson.

The company was invited into the grand foyer, where Dior and Nimloth stood to properly greet them, alongside Rovian and Eluréd, who eyes stared in disbelief that the grandson of Oropher was suddenly on their grounds.

"Welcome, House of Oropher," Dior spoke loftily, providing them an Elvish greeting by placing the palm of his hand on his chest and lifting it outward to which they replied in kind. His eyes slowly shifted to who he rightly presumed was Oropher's grandson, "We perhaps know the reason for your visit. Lord Legolas, you are most welcome here."

Forgoing what should have been a formal introduction of their house, Rovian broke the invisible barrier and walked over to Legolas. She could see it in the Elf's eyes the moment he entered the foyer; the fear one holds when they are so close yet believe it could still be taken away. She would not let him linger there any longer than needed for the sake of High Elf customs.

Legolas assumed the She-Elf approaching her was Vezely's mother, Rovian. The same freckles dotted over the bridge of her nose and cheeks. She placed a hand lightly on his shoulder and spoke calm and reassuringly, "She is on the beaches below. Come, I will take you there..."

* * *

Vezely was told of the letter that came by her mother while gardening, though its sender was unknown and upon returning to her room after a bath, she picked it up from the writing desk only to place it back down. Her suspicion was that it was from Prince Arakáno and she was not in the mood to read any of his smooth talk. The past week she had been spending the afternoons wandering the beaches below, and this afternoon she desired to do the same.

She would discard her shoes at the bottom of the causeway and step onto the warm sands barefoot as she had before, picking up unpolished pearls as she walked up the shoreline, and discarding them by throwing them into the tide as she went along. The waves seemed calmer today than before, the breeze milder, though enough to tangle her hair reminding herself to again find that pair of scissors. She would stand and stare eastward, onto the great dividing Sea of Belegaer, knowing far beyond lay Middle Earth. It was uncanny, for during her last half century in Rhun, she constantly found herself staring westward. Yet regardless of her coordinates, she continued to look in the direction of where she believed Legolas to be.

...Rovian led Legolas through the villa's open courtyards to the stairs that led to the beaches below. The families followed behind them, stopping short on the upper terraces while Legolas continued on. At the bottom, he stalled and stared at the Elf maiden who was walking barefoot away from him up the shore. She was dressed in a cream yellow gown, of which the ocean breezes were blowing its voluminous fabric against her figure. Along with her long, dark hair, he thought in disbelief, _It cannot be her._ He stepped onto the sands and continued apprehensively, his heart yet racing as he watched the maiden walk further up the coastline.

Vezely stopped and turned towards the sea, crossing her arms and looking wistfully out at the horizon, unaware that she was no longer alone on the beach. And seeing her profile, Legolas knew, _It is her._

The cry of seagulls prompted Vezely to turn her gaze, and she spotted the figure walking towards her. After narrowing her eyes for a sharper look, her breath caught and her mouth went agape. She shook her head in disbelief and spoke into the breeze, "My eyes deceive me. You cannot be here. It cannot be you."

He heard her voice among the crashing of the waves and called apprehensively, "Vezely?" As if also questioning her existence.

As her lips fell further open, she covered her mouth with her hand before moving it down to her chest, where she felt her heart beat quicken. She willed her feet to move towards him.

"Legolas, you're here?" she stammered yet in disbelief.

"And you are here," he replied, finally finding himself in reach of her. His hands gently cupped the sides of her face and his eyes looked upon her anew as she did the same.

She set her own hands on top of his, finding healing in the warmth of his touch. Her tear filled eyes wavered on his, she stammered, "I am so sorry. So sorry I did not come back."

"It matters not," he told her, his eyesight blurry and his voice cracking, "As long as you never leave me again." He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, bringing her closer, and she complied, wrapping her hands around his back to complete the much needed embrace.

Tears fell from both their eyes as they held onto each other until Legolas pulled back to look upon her face again. He had removed the silver betrothal ring and her gold Balchoth leader ring that long sat around his fingers, "These belong to you," he told her while taking her right hand.

Vezely did not need to ask how, not then, for she knew Cyane was the one entrusted with those rings and that it had to have been her who carried them West.

He placed the gold ring on her index finger first, but before doing the same with the silver betrothal ring, he asked the exact question he did the first time he presented the ring to her, "Will you permit me?"

"Yes," the simple word escaped from her lips quickly, and she watched him slide it on, afterwards intertwining his fingers with hers. She returned her eyes to his, finding joy peeking through the grief they once held, and she knew hers must have appeared the same. With this exchange a hunger passed over them and their lips met, apprehensively at first, for the feeling felt new again, but they quickly found as the kiss continued they had been starved of it for too long.

The two families witnessed the whole exchange on the upper terraces.

"Well," Dior spoke first with his arms crossed and smirk plastered across his face, "It appears we will be having a wedding. If," he looked to Oropher, "Such an arrangement pleases your house."

Oropher knew Dior well enough to gauge his own opinion mattered little, not that he considered the pairing unpleasing to begin with. "I do believe my grandson has earned the right not to have his kin meddle with his future happiness, regardless of how unexpected this all is."

Thranduil stared pensively at the distant couple; he was not pleased with the Easterling-Elf for breaking her promise and causing his son grief for too long, but when his wife clasped the hand he held by his side, calmness overtook him and he realized her effect on him remained. His family was reunited, and his son's heart now mending; perhaps it was time to see Valinor as a welcomed change.


	56. Of Weddings, Circlets, and High Valinorean Society

"There is so much I want ask you, and so much I want to say," Vezely thoughts cluttered as she was still in disbelief as they walked hand in hand together to the steps that would take them back up to her family's chateau.

"We have all the time in Arda," Legolas replied in a soft breath, his eyes shining upon her with the noonday sun.

"I guess we do," she half-smiled trying to settle her queries, afterwards releasing his hand in order to lift up the bottom length of her cream yellow dress and slip her feet into the flats waiting there for her.

Legolas further examined her appearance as she did; watching as her long dark hair fell over her shoulders as she slightly bent down; noting also the lack of gold rings lining the edges of her pointed ears. "I almost did not recognize you," he spoke in strange awe, suddenly finding himself curious if only her appearance was different.

She returned his gaze with some hesitancy, for she knew her look was not what it was in Minas Tirith upon last he saw her. "It has only been a week. I have not had time to adjust."

 _One week_ , Lord Elrond mentioned this to him on the docks of Alqualondë but just now he was processing it; she had spent all those years in the Halls of Mandos, waiting. He again took her hand in his, his eyes displaying concern and his mind unsure what words of comfort to provide.

Gauging his misplaced worry, she explained slowly, "And shorter still the time I felt lost in those Halls when compared to the length of time that the world continued outside them. It feels as if only two moons ago I was in Rhun." She brought the back of his hand to her cheek, closing her eyes momentary as she pressed it against her skin, reveling in his warmth before saying reassuringly, "But this is a good thing. While the world has changed, I have not, except slightly in appearance."

"Then I am thankful," he told her assuredly, "I do not want you changed."

The sentiment led to Vezely closing her eyes again and moving the back of his hand to her lips, kissing it gently. _If only you knew how much it means to me to hear you say that,_ she thought before looking back at him with a small but heartfelt smile.

...The respective families awaited them on the upper terraces. Smiles formed as the couple got closer, their hands still intertwined at their side. Vezely's eyes met her parents' first; her mother looked close to crying, for Rovian knew, as did Eluréd, that their daughter was going to be alright.

"House of Oropher, may I present to you my granddaughter, Vezely," Dior announced to all, and regardless of it being an official announcement of their betrothal, he used her Mannish name, knowing quite well it would be inappropriate not to.

"And House of Dior, this is my grandson, Legolas," Oropher responded proudly, knowing as all else did the importance of such a day for the life of an Elf, "And by their union, our houses also."

Legolas momentarily left Vezely's side to formally meet Vezely's family while she went to greet his, approaching first the one familiar face among them and bowing her head down low with a fist to her chest in order to show him proper respect, "King Thranduil," she greeted politely.

"You broke your promise," Thranduil spoke harshly to her before she had lifted her head, foregoing a greeting.

"Apologies, my lord. It was a miscalculation," she straightened her posture and spoke as a soldier responding to an order.

"Dying was a miscalculation?" He returned dryly, his strong stare still bearing down on her.

"The timing it should have been prevented was," she returned sparse of detail on the manner of her death, and not allowing her gaze to be deterred when adding assuredly, "Though the plan did win the war."

While not knowing the parameters of the deal her husband made, Thranduil's wife knew well enough her husband's inopportune temper, so she intervened calmly, "There is no need to discuss this on a morning of reunions and joyful news, my love. A grieving heart mends easily when love is returned to it. This betrothal is a welcomed gift, Vezely. One we will cherish along with our son." The golden haired elleth was tall in stature, her cheekbones high, her bright eyes grayish-blue, and they seemed to radiate warmth and compassion; a complement to Thranduil's distinct coolness.

"As long as no more grief finds our son," Thranduil added cocking one dark eyebrow, his glare upon her yet sharp.

 _Grief_ , Vezely pondered the reality behind this statement as she ducked her head; _what did her death cost him emotionally in the years of her absence?_

...Rovian placed a hand aside her future son-in-law's cheek and peered into his kind eyes. She remembered seeing Legolas before her passing, when he was the fearless and respected leader of the Woodland Guard. And tales of the prince's greatness as the only Elvish member of the Fellowship had passed her ears in the last century in Valinor, for all sang of the Woodland archer whose skill many argued rivaled that of the greatest Elvish archer, Beleg Cúthalion. That he was her daughter's betrothed, and the one who helped steer her heart to redemption, was unexpected. "You have our gratitude, Prince Legolas," she told him, engaging his eyes, "We have come to understand how much you mean to her and know how much she needs you to adjust to this new life."

These words led Legolas to further wonder about Vezely's adjustment, not only to these lands of Valinor, but to the culture of the Eldar. He was grateful he could be there for her during this transition.

...Feeling a subdued giddiness at the prospect, Nimloth mused to Oropher's wife who she went to stand aside, "A wedding is a joyous affair and one such as this will require quite the amount of planning."

"Indeed," she responded thinking the same, while closely observing the young elleth her grandson decided to pledge himself to. Rumors of the Elf child who served Sauron circulated among those who lived under her husband's protection in Valinor; circulated from the Mirkwood Elves who sailed during the end of the Third Age, and perhaps from the very Woodland guards whose deaths she had a hand in dealing. Not betraying her thoughts, she maintained Nimloth's optimism and poise, "There has not been a proper Sindarin wedding in some time and the last Noldorin union was underwhelming..."

Nimloth was quick to set her servants to task in preparing a proper afternoon feast for the unexpected guests, especially since custom required a meal for the two families to share in celebration of the betrothal announcement. The company would be led through the rose gardens where tables were formally set with white linens and crystal vases adorned with freshly cut yellow roses. Cobalt bottles containing white wine was immediately brought out and poured into fluted, gold flecked glasses.

Vezely and Legolas held each other's hand on the way, exchanging looks of remembrance, of relief, and disbelief. Each had an insatiable desire to flee the others and find a place of seclusion.

The couple was placed at the head of the table and the families were seated on their respective sides.

"We should set a date," Nimloth spoke after all had been poured a glass of wine, "Traditionally a ceremony should be held one year from the betrothal date."

"Which was 122 years ago," Legolas informed them politely, fully aware of how long they had been parted and not desiring to wait a full year for the sake of propriety.

"At least allow time for a ceremony to be planned," Legolas's mother added, "An auspicious date perhaps, during the second star festival."

"That is only one month from now," Rovian quickly reassured the eager couple, knowing their lack of knowledge of the Valinorian festival calendar.

Vezely looked to Legolas sans a fully formed opinion. She was slowly realizing they would be at the mercy of an entire planning committee for an event she knew absolutely nothing about, except for the flowers. She remembered quite well Legolas had taunted her with being required to wear white flowers in her hair.

Legolas did not need Vezely to speak to gauge her indifference on the matter of the ceremony's date. With their eyes yet engaged he responded for both of them, "The second star festival would be suitable."

"In one month then," Nimloth expressed with a huff, "It is not impossible but..."

"I am sure one month is plenty of time, my dear," Dior returned wryly, knowing his wife had an impetus for dramatizing, "And now that that business is settled, onto drink, food, and good conversation..."

Legolas and Vezely had not removed their gaze, or the hands they held together under the table while the families continued to converse around them. Thranduil watched his son closely, finding it still uncomfortable to see his son with this Easterling-Elf, even if her softer appearance jarred his vision less so. The long hair, Elvish refinery, and the lack of gold riddling her ears made her less reproachable.

Nimloth began querying ceremony locations, seamstresses and tailors, food and wine, and First Age Sindarin customs, and Rovian, knowing her mother-in-law could get carried away, intervened, "Perhaps the couple also have preferences in these choices. There are traditions from our Woodland realm which are appropriate," she nodded at King Thranduil politely, "And if there are customs of Rhun which our daughter would like to incorporate."

"A Mannish ritual?" Dior pondered aloud, noticeably intrigued to hear about it, then declaring proudly, "It would not offend my house. Though I know not the ways of Rhun," his eyes shifted to Vezely for an answer.

Vezely was uncertain whether she had any desire to add to what would probably be a bloated ceremony, and thinking only of her lifestyle as a general, her response attempted to show her indifference, "I spent most of my life in militia culture where official vows are forbidden and if a soldier desires something akin to monogamy with their lover it is spoken among themselves."

"Ah yes. Mannish ways can be a bit...looser. A man can have multiple lovers," Dior stated his own understanding with a chuckle, seemingly amused rather than appalled by such a possibility, though others were less so with his comment.

"A woman can have the same," Vezely corrected him, after which Dior lifted up his glass in polite apologies for being unintentionally sexist.

Rovian politely attempted to steer the conversation back to the wedding, "Is there none from the culture of those who raised you then?"

Vezely knew her mother desired to be inclusive, so she thought back to her Balchoth roots, remembering one specifically. She spoke still uncertain, "There is one custom of the Balchoth and several other nomadic tribes which may be suitable; the lighting of the couple's hearth. As nomads our homes were not constant and with every relocation the first task of a family is to build a hearth. It is the heart of your home; the place of warmth, of gathering, where you eat, where you converse and make decisions. During union ceremonies the new couple is presented a torch which is lit from the fires of each respective family's hearth. It is a reflection of the joining of two houses to make one anew."

"That is a touching tradition," Legolas expressed to her warmly, as he gently squeezed her hand under the table causing her some relief after revealing it.

"If there are no hearths from which to light these torches, could we adjust the manner in which it's done?" Rovian queried hopeful.

"Any fire kindled by the family could serve the same purpose," Vezely returned, again finding her family's support endearing.

Legolas squeezed her hand once again, causing her to look upon him as he declared, "We will need to find a home to build a hearth."

This gave her paused. "Yes, yes we will," she confirmed slowly, knowing she fell hopelessly into his gaze. The rest of the company seemed to disappear from both their purviews as their thoughts turned towards their future life together.

Observing the young lovers, Dior remarked, "You would think we sit before Thingol and Melian in Nan Elmoth," which caused those originally from First Age Doriath the most amusement.

This caused Legolas to unexpectedly blush, as he realized the current situation was quite unlike their previous engagement in Minas Tirith when they were forced to keep quiet about their relationship. Here everything was as it should be, as he dreamed it could be, and his heart was finally starting to feel light again.

The reddish hue appearing on his cheeks fascinated Vezely, as did her own openness in displaying her softer emotions. Suddenly she cared not for appearing detached from the world around her, nor did she need to. The general who needed to be strong for her men regardless of the tragedy they faced, had no place here where there was no tragedy, only joy, and joy she was allowed to partake in.

"Fire seems inappropriate for a wedding ceremony," Thranduil interrupted their moment, intentionally bringing disagreement.

"Why?" Vezely asked returning his glare, "Fire is life."

"It is also death," he responded coolly.

"In this context, I do not think the positive meaning would go astray, father," Legolas reasoned, knowing his father held the painful scars of fire seared flesh along with his penchant for causing difficulties.

Thranduil breathed in, "Perhaps not, but it will appear out of place among our customs."

Elurédpolitely intervened, "If I may, my lord, I think its inclusion could be less so if we ask Lord Pallando to preside over the ceremony."

"The Istari?" Thranduil questioned.

"He is a friend of our daughters and I would assume asking him to officiate would be appropriate," _Eluréd further explained his reasoning._

"Romestamo would not say no," Vezely confirmed also considering this being a good idea, while using the Maiar's Rhunic moniker.

Dior chuckled, and boasting slightly, "I do not know the full parameters of your dealings in Rhun my dear, but you certainly made some connections."

"I angered everyone enough to," she stated dryly following with a smirk which gave her grandfather further amusement. The more she interacted with Dior, the more she liked him. He was noticeably divergent from what she expected a High Elf to be like, and unbeknownst to her, the rest of Valinor thought similarly of him, including the House of Oropher.

...The brunch continued much the same until Legolas's family politely departed, while Legolas lingered for a little longer, not desiring to leave her side so soon and planning to ask her accompaniment to Alqualondë the following morning. The celebration which would have been held for the new arrivals that day was postponed until then due to him and his father's quick departure. They walked hand-in-hand to a secluded gazebo located in her parent's side of the rose gardens. On the way there they did not converse, realizing each had accrued some shyness with their returned coupling; as if they again needed to find each other's boundaries before comfortably crossing them.

"Travel with us tomorrow to Alqualondë," Legolas requested after they took a seat on a stone bench. "There is someone who desires to see you," causing Vez to look at him skeptically, "Gimli made the journey as well."

"Gimli is here?" Vezely queried wide-eyed.

"He will be overjoyed to see you again," Legolas spoke noticeably proud that his dwarf friend had been given such an honor to cross into Valinor, as several of the Fellowship members before him.

"As I him. I thought I would never again meet any of my westward friends, though they often entered my thoughts," she added yet beside herself.

"As you did theirs," Legolas told her as he tried not to let his mind wander into the deep sorrow he held of their passing.

"I remained unsure when to ask, though I desire to learn what became of those whose lives I only briefly shared," she replied reminiscing, seeing the faces of Eowyn and Merry as she did; it brought a small smile to her face, "I heard of King Elessar's prosperous kingdom, though my knowledge remained sparse of any personal detail."

"And in time I will speak their life stories to you," he shifted and looked aside, now knowing his eyes betrayed his melancholy and so he admitted why he was not yet ready to do so, "Though currently the grief of their passing is still too near."

Vezely's thoughts halted when seeing this change of emotion. She touched her fingertip lightly to the side of his face, "Mourn, and I shall mourn alongside you. And in time, when we speak of our friends, their memories will only lighten our mood," she again smiled, hopeful she could gain his attention and that it would provide some cheer; as she desired to show she was there for him as she knew he was for her.

He returned her gaze slowly, finding himself falter into disbelief of her face smiling at him, "I never thought this possible, Vezely. You, sitting before me, feeling your touch, seeing that ring back on your finger. I," his wavering eyes filled with tears, "I feared I would never see you again, that we would never be."

She brought her other hand to his face; she never saw him as such; so vulnerable, so fragile. She could tell his grief lay deep inside and she felt sorrowful that she contributed to it. "And I would take it all away, all that grief and uncertainty," she bit her lip momentarily, looking away ashamed that she also lost hope, "I wanted to return to your side sooner but with every battle I fell farther away."

He ducked his head aside hers, brushing her cheek with his own, "We both lost hope," he confided quietly as Vezely nuzzled into him, breathing his scent in deeply and finding it full of memory.

"Let us find it again," she whispered in his ear, afterwards slowly pulling her face away to look into his eyes. "Can we not?"

He half-smiled, realizing the day, arriving in Valinor, and being reunited with not only his family but her had flown by without him actually processing what was meant by these changes. He had not let it truly sink in. He touched the tip of his nose to hers, before they leaned their foreheads together. "I think we already have," he replied softly, his eyes closing, as he allowed the calm of this admission to wash over him. He would find the light again.

* * *

"He is very handsome," Rovian attempted girl talk as she walked alongside her daughter down the sunlit corridor the following morning.

But Vezely replied indifferent, "He is a first-rate warrior. That matters more to me than his appearance," though she would not deny her physical attraction.

"Does it really?" Rovian queried skeptically, a cheerful smile still on her face. "He was always thought of as such. And many a young elleth desired to win favor of the prince, though his interest lied only in his duty with the guard."

"You knew of him back then?" she asked finding herself oddly curious.

"Not personally," Rovian returned quickly, "Just of King Thranduil's brave and valiant son. But here in Valinor he is known by all as the only Elf to accompany the Ring. He is renowned. Poems have been written and songs are sung of his great deeds."

"I see," Vezely considered this in relation to the celebration she would be attending that day.

As if knowing her daughter's thoughts, she added, "That is why you need to dress formal for this event," for Vezely had mentioned that morning that she desired not to wear anything elaborate leading Rovian to intervene. They entered a large dressing room, and waiting for them was one of the houses many helpers, "This is Lady Hilneth," Rovian introduced the poised elleth who was the family's beauty consultant among other tasks. "She will tend to your hair and has agreed to cut it to your preference."

"I can do it myself," Vezely quickly denied the offer, her cool, skeptical gaze shifting from the Hilneth to her mother.

Rovian remained composed, though she found her daughter's sudden stubbornness unsightly, "Lady Hilneth is incredibly skilled with hair styling. And she will cut and style it exactly as you desire."

"Please, my lady, it would be an honor for me to tend to this," Hilneth added politely, yet smiling brightly at her.

 _An honor to cut my hair?_ Vez felt mildly annoyed by the feigned politeness which all servants held. She suddenly missed a soldier's respect, for at least she knew she earned it. But not wanting to appear anymore obstinate and for the sake of her mother, she agreed to allow Hilneth practice her trade. "Very well." She went to sit down at the vanity.

"...That short?" Hilneth asked wide-eyed when Vezely, who had tied together her hair into a ponytail in preparation for the snip, told her to cut it just above the shoulders. Hilneth had not known any elleth willingly trim her hair as such, when long hair was considered a sign of beauty and grace as Eru made them, but she would had little sway in the matter.

* * *

"This is an important day," Nimloth explained, as she carefully positioned the elaborate circlet on Vezely's head. "I know your official betrothal date was over a century ago in Middle Earth, but this is your first official public appearance together in Valinor, and with the status of your House and the status of the Elf you are betrothed to, it matters greatly." She stepped back, still looking upon the intricate silver and gold headpiece. "This circlet is an exact replica of the one I wore in Ered Luin after my betrothal to your grandfather. I had it commissioned for sentimentality's sake and the possibility of it being appreciated once more..." She went on to explain further how the two blue sapphire drops represented the waterfall, Lanthir Lamath, which is where she first met Dior, and the yellow topaz as representing the rose he gave her during that meeting.

"It's rather elaborate," Vezely stated in lieu of any words of appreciation; uncertain of its needed presence. The headpiece reminded her of the one Arwen wore to Aragorn's coronation, for she had seen its likeness nowhere else.

"Of course it is," Nimloth quipped back assuredly, "And even better that it will take their eyes off your hair."

Hoping to disregard Nimloth's rude remark about Vezely's new hairstyle, Rovian quickly commented, "It complements your simpler gown." Afterwards she draped a gray riding cloak over her shoulders, covering the light gray gown that was less ornate in style than many she could have chosen.

Witnessing this interaction, Dior calmly advised, "Think of it as a helm worn into battle my dear. And with it you wear the colors of our House." He was referring to her gray raiment.

"That is one way to think of it," Vezely considered quietly, realizing she would much prefer going into battle than maneuvering the unknown that was High Valinorian society.

Eluréd would take her arm and be her escort to the gates, doing so to tell her in confidence along the way, "I think your hair suits you. And worry not about fitting in. Just be yourself." Her father knew a thing or two about curtailing expectations, as he never became a great lord in Middle Earth as his heritage would have expected.

Out front, Vezely's white horse would be awaiting her, along with the House of Oropher and their company.

* * *

"...The House of Dior is known for their eccentricity, Lord Dior in particular," Legolas's grandmother informed as they rode their horses nearer the chateau, "But they are well-respected among the Teleri and have the favor of the Valar. It is an auspicious union, and I can tell her house fully supports her, regardless of her past."

"And of her past, what is known here?" Legolas asked.

"It varies," Oropher replied for his wife. "But I would not worry, for she does not appear physically estranged and they need not question one of the Nine."

Over the last day, Legolas began to realize his deeds with the Fellowship also garnered special renown among his distant kin in Valinor. Not only was he the grandson of Oropher, and son of Thranduil, both great leaders in Middle Earth and respected among the Silvan and Sindarin populations who had migrated, but he was the Elf who accompanied the Ring; one of the nine walkers whose Fellowship was instrumental in defeating Sauron. What was a somewhat quiet and more solitary lifestyle as the head of a small colony in Ithilien was no more. Here he had a different type of status; that of a hero or legend one tells tales of. He did not yet know how he felt about this.

On the arm of her father, Vezely exited from the chateau's iron gates after which Legolas dismounted to greet her. Her hair was as it was the first time he ever saw her; in Mirkwood when she was in her youth and his enemy. But rather than bring contempt from the past, her shortened hair provided comfort. Somehow it made her familiar again.

Eluréd released his daughter's arm somewhat reluctantly. He had not had a chance to play a paternal role in her life, and with her approaching wedding perhaps he would not get to. Yet he knew, in the way her betrothed looked at her, he needed not be concerned; his daughter was marrying for love and not for position.

Legolas greeted Eluréd with a respectful nod for a greeting, before offering Vez his hand, saying sincerely, "I am glad to see you adjusting." And Vezely knew her hair pleased him, though his family, with the exception of Thranduil who had seen her hair considerably shorter, was surprised by the change and wondered why she did something so drastic. None, however, desired to bring up the topic on the ride there.

She kept her horse alongside Legolas's, listening to him speak of the journey to Valinor: of the gray ship he helped build, of the never ending stretch of blue seas and star filled skies that blended together at the horizon, of Gimli and his initial sea sickness, which he assured her the dwarf would tell her more about when they met. It was a pleasant tale to hear spun on a sunny morning and leisurely ride along the trail to Alqualondë, for it held no sorrow or heartache, only wonder and humor.

"...If only you could have seen the night sky, Vezely," Legolas cheerfully reminisced, "I shall never forget standing on the deck of that ship, steering straight at the stars."

"I would never have pinned you for a sea captain," Vezely returned amused by his overt enchantment, but realizing bluntly, "Of course, the captains I have had the displeasure of meeting left an ill impression. Perhaps," she thought forward, "We should sail up the coastline. The chateau's docks house a sailboat, which according to my father has been in long disuse. If you know the ropes we would not need a crew."

"You have experience with seafaring?" He wondered.

"I spent some time traveling Rhun's many rivers on campaigns. I know enough to handle a small boat on the open waves," she replied, recalling the knot tying and sail hoisting.

"Perfect, when should we set sail?" Legolas queried optimistic at the possibility of experiencing sailing with her, as he found his wanderlust again overtaking him.

"You need to first be wedded, my son," his mother intervened politely, realizing after yesterday and their open displays of affection, that his relationship with this elleth was far past the courtship stage.

Legolas exchanged a pleasant smile with Vezely, "One month then."

Both were grateful the wedding was set so soon, since they knew in polite Valinorean society they could not simply spend all their time together. In Minas Tirith, they broke the customs of courtship under the extenuating circumstance of Vezely's departure. Here, for the sake of their family's honor, they would need to endure the evenings of separation and the paucity of alone time when together.

...The port city's main thoroughfare was decorated in fresh garlands, spruced up from the day before in preparation for the postponed celebration. Their horses were taken to the stables, and they were led to the city's central hall where Gimli along with Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn, Gandalf, as well as Lord Elrond and his wife Lady Celebr _í_ an awaited. Many others were at the celebration, eager to greet the new arrivals, especially the two remaining members of the famed Fellowship.

Legolas escorted Vezely, as they walked behind the rest of his house into the filled hall. Many noted the granddaughter of Dior on his arm, finding it curious, along with her short hair. While some knew of her past service to Sauron, fewer knew of her interaction with the Fellowship.

..."Where is she?" Gimli called out brusquely when he was told of their entrance, "Where is that grim Easterling-Elf?"

A smile lit Vezely's face the instant she saw Gimli, cane in hand, making steady steps towards her.

"Master Dwarf," she greeted him with a fist to her chest and a bowed head.

"Lass, your presence here brings much needed relief to an old dwarf's heart," he spoke sincerely, a smile brightly shining through his gray beard. "If Legolas does not mind, do me the honor of walking by my side," he requested of her.

"I will endure this request my dear friend, but not for the whole evening," Legolas replied cheekily.

"...You look more like an Elf than I remember," Gimli told her gruffly after a few steps by her side, saying so not as a compliment.

"And you look older," she returned, also not as a compliment.

"Oh ho ho, well, neither of us can be perfect," he spoke assuredly; pleased her snarky personality appeared intact. "That is why I can forgive your absence until now," he turned towards her, a grateful smile still on his face, "For I know he is going to be just fine with you by his side."

A faint smile and a ducked head delivered all the response Vezely could muster at this admission, even though she knew Gimli's manner had not intended to impart guilt.

"And I see that silver ring is where it belongs. I do hope I am invited to the wedding," he inquired, a sparkle in his eye.

"As a guest of honor," she replied proudly, glad that Gimli indeed would be there, for he had witnessed their relationship from the very beginning; through their initial distrust, feigned disinterest, and continued complications.

She walked Gimli to a chair, set out especially for him, and he sat upon it in a tired huff, as age was wearing him down. Vezely was unused to see the fragility of time on the body. Perhaps militia life made one forget the elderly existed, as most soldiers were in their prime and were more likely to die before reaching later stages of maturity. Gimli was quickly served a drink. "Wine," he stated unimpressed at the glass's content, "Not sure the Elves know the greatness of ale."

"Unlikely," Vez agreed bluntly with a smirk, suddenly finding next to her another recognizable face.

"Forgive me for not visiting you sooner," Lord Elrond greeted her in the Common Tongue for the sake of Gimli's presence.

"Lord Elrond," she spoke surprised to see the Elf who was instrumental in her redemption, afterwards placing a fist to her chest and tilting her head down in greeting.

A smile of remembrance overtook Elrond's face while watching her greet him in Easterling fashion. "You are as I remember, though not so," he stated in thought.

She smiled faintly, "I remain myself though without the same responsibilities."

"Indeed," Elrond returned with a concentrated stare, "And responsibilities you met bravely. Perhaps your kin will never know what you accomplished in Rhun, and you will not receive this sort of fanfare, but the Valar are aware and it will not be forgotten..." And then, telling her in confidence, "It will take time to adjust, as it did for myself..." Elrond also had to adjust to a new life in Valinor, to the simplicity of an assured peace, to a wife he was parted from for too long, and to a family torn asunder, for Arwen he would never again meet. Vezely found comfort in conversing with the wisest of her kin, and it gave her more hope that her life here would be as it should.

...Vezely returned to Legolas's side when, coincidentally, he was being introduced to a certain Noldorin prince.

Legolas started, "And this is..."

"Lady Bellethiel," Arakano finished his unnecessary introduction, seemingly surprised to see Dior's granddaughter at the celebration and taking the outstretched arm of the esteemed Sindarin prince before him.

Vezely gave the tall Elf a faint sneer, which Legolas picked up on, leading him afterward to confirm, "You two have met."

"Briefly," Vez replied bluntly, her eyes shifting back to Legolas's, "My grandfather introduced us, which is why he knows me as 'Lady Bellethiel.'"

"I see," Legolas understood this as the possible reason for her momentary disdain, "Then perhaps I shall reintroduce you, as Vezely."

"Vezely?" Arakano repeated the odd sounding name, trying not to show any awkwardness at their personal exchange in front of him, "That is not of Elvish origin."

"No, nor is it Common Speech," she told him unashamed, "It is Easterling dialect, and is the name I go by."

"I see," he replied slowly as if processing what this meant while unintentionally mimicking Legolas just prior, "And you two obviously know each other."

"That we do," Legolas responded proudly, "Vezely is my betrothed."

"Betrothed, ah," he realized somewhat coolly, before adding with concern, "That I would have known sooner. Apologies Lady Vezely, for my forwardness prior. I hope you do not look upon me unfavorably."

"It was only a misunderstanding my lord, nothing else," Vez responded with polite indifference.

Arakano bowed and spoke his congratulations before departing, after which Legolas asked Vezely with a curious half-smile, "His forwardness?"

"Supposedly," Vez leaned nearer to speak covertly, "Being an unwed heir of the House of Dior means I'm some sort of desirable spouse," she did not hide her annoyance.

Her perturbed manner amused him, for all he could do was think back to their difficulties in Minas Tirith, with her being deemed unmarriageable, and how now these troubles were strangely reversed. He decided to tease her slightly, placing a hand on the small of her back while whispering in her ear, "I suppose I should be weary of the competition and that I will need to continue to woo you to stay by my side."

"Woo me?" Vezely repeated before realizing he was being smart with her. "As a matter of fact," she decided to play along, leaning in closer, "I do require a certain amount of wooing," causing him to move his hand from her back to the side of her waist, while he nuzzled his nose into her cheek.

A polite cough came from behind them, causing them to turn their faces to each other and smirk in amusement at their playfulness. It mattered not that it was Legolas's mother or that others noted their very affectionate display. They cared not, realizing there in Valinor, it was only their actions that were deemed inappropriate, not their relationship.


	57. Little Adjustments

"I have something I have been waiting to give to you," Legolas guided Vezely by hand to his room; taking her swiftly up the narrow stairwell that was one of many connecting the large flets in the trees of the dense forests where Oropher and his people dwelt. The outdoor atmosphere was a far cry from the cavernous halls of Mirkwood or Menegroth, and Legolas mentioned the place reminded him more of the dwellings in Lothlorien than of his home. Vezely just wondered why Woodelves had an affinity for building their dwellings upwards, seeing as she preferred to be on solid ground.

It was her first journey into the forests situated behind her family's chateau and her first introduction to the largest population of Elves in Valinor who had heard of her, perhaps not by name but by rumor. She rode with him there, crossing the Fallow Stream which marked the borders of her house's estate. They discussed a possibility of building their home in the middle of that crossing, to live in the forests but also close to the coastline. Memories of Ithilien ran through Vezely's mind, even if these forests far surpassed the beauty of any that grew in Middle Earth.

After dispatching their horses, Legolas took her the back way, desiring to postpone formal introductions until later in the day. Sans the relaxing ride there, they had yet to have adequate time alone.

His spacious room was more of a small residence, with several rooms within: a study, a changing room, a rest area. It was decorated in earth tones and from the ceiling hung stained glass lanterns, which when lit would illuminate the space in a soothing, yellow light.

He slid from the corner an old cedar trunk, and kneeling in front of it, he opened its latched lid to find the object he had stored for her within.

"General Cyane entrusted this to me," he explained while pulling out the gold embellished Rhunic sword.

"My sword," in one breath the realization of what he held came to her and she quickly knelt beside him, her eyes in disbelief scanning its scabbard, her hands shaking slightly as he moved it into her grasp. "Cyane brought this to you?"

"Yes, with your rings, and a soapstone box that contained your..." his speech stopped as he found himself unable to say it.

"My ashes," Vezely gently spoke the uncomfortable word for him, providing him a consoling smile before accepting the hilt he held before her. She closed her eyes after she gripped it, feeling its balanced weight after he released his grasp; also in preparation for her ears to focus on the familiar sound of the click it made as she pulled the blade from its sheath. "This sword," she stated in full realization, holding it up, "It holds the memory of my men. Within its steel I can see their faces." The glint of light cast from the open windows onto its blade reflected her eyes. She spoke softly as she remembered, "It felt different this time, as a general. Not only because the difficulties I faced far exceeded the scruples of commanding legions for Sauron. Squashing rebellions seemed like a field day to the plague and politics Rhun found after the war. The main change, I suppose, was what we were fighting for." She re-sheathed the sword and settled it in her lap, her hand still on its hilt and yet staring forward in contemplation, she added, "Pride, I held it Legolas Not for myself, but for those in my legions who persevered so that one day peace would find our lands. And Cyane," a faint smile stretched across her face, "I am so glad she lived to see it."

"She became general of the New Rhun Defense Forces, and helped established peace between the Easterlings and both Gondor and Rohan..." he told her carefully what information he collected of the warrior woman who rode into Ithilien that day; the one who changed everything for him.

A proud look stretched across her face as she locked the sword fully into its sheath, the click also finding her ears pleasantly, "I knew she would."

Legolas watched her reaction closely, finding it endearing to see this side of the bond he gauged existed between her and the warrior woman he met only briefly in Ithilien, leading him to relay the message she had requested of him that day, "She wanted me to tell you, that you were more than a mentor to her."

Vezely turned her concentrated stare to his, and a faint smile found its way to her lips, "And she was more than a child unexpectedly placed under my vigilance. Her parents, they were my closest confidants. Kor; a Variag who survived Pelennor Fields and Faramir's prisons. There are few warriors I would trust my life with, and he was one of them. And Samsara; her village was destroyed when the People of Dark Lands marched through her homeland, and she came to the sword to keep it from happening to others. Stubborn, but she had a fierceness in her that all respected. Their unborn child was forfeit under Coalition law, but I overlooked it, for Kor had just been killed during the Agasha Dag's succession and Samsara...well, the child was all she had of him. Cyane; her name means 'hope' in Easterling tongue and that is what she was. Hope that Rhun could move past the war and again find its stability." She took a deep calming breath, realizing it was so. Then adding grateful, "I knew I could entrust her with my personal effects, though parting with them proved trying." She looked at the two rings on her left hand, and the sword in her other. She suddenly felt physically balanced again.

"I am glad they are returned to you," he found comfort in hearing this tale, of knowing of those whose time she shared during their separation.

They were yet kneeling in front of the trunk and while looking down Vezely caught a glimpse of another object it contained. "You kept it?" Her surprise was unhidden and her mouth agape as she set down her sword and pulled out the plum colored garment.

Legolas blushed slightly, for it appeared overly sentimental of him to keep the garment for so long, but he was brave enough to admit his reasoning, "I would not be parted from it, not when it was declared that you would wear it again someday."

A smile of remembrance lit her face before she jumped up, the folded gown falling to its length as she did, "And how about today?"

"Today? Now?" the speed of his words were no match for her quickness, as she had already made her way to the changing room, appearing not two minutes later in the Rhunic gown.

"To think I had disdain for this gown when the ones currently in my wardrobe are ten times more elaborate," she remarked smoothing the front of it out, "It is fraying in some areas, and there are several threads lose, but for its age..."

The vision of her in that gown; the one he had in his possession for so long and would pull out on occasion from the trunk when he desired to remember her wearing it, to have his memory now manifested in reality, left him speechless.

"Legolas?" She called him softly, realizing by his entranced gaze that his thoughts were far away, so she went to sit by his side once more. "Too long," she murmured gently taking his hands in hers, "We have been apart for too long."

"But you appear exactly as I remember," he replied quietly, his eyes now roaming her face.

"Not exactly," she returned with a faint smile, and she turned slightly to reveal what the dress did not cover; her upper back which was missing the runes once tattooed on it. "And my hands," she lifted his and overturned hers within it, so her palms were facing him, "They are soft. As if I have never held a sword." She stared at them, and while she made these remarks for amusement, she betrayed her discomfort.

"Then make it not so," he retrieved her sword, placing the hilt back into her grasp. "You are Vezely, and you remain a warrior, even without your markings." He brought his fingertips to her shoulder, and ran it down to her bare collarbone where he remembered it held the tracings of seagulls. They exchanged a warm smile that expressed without words Vezely's gratefulness of his acceptance of who she was, and Legolas's sincere desire to remind her. "I think," he moved his fingertips to the gown's shoulder hemline, finding the threading loose. "This dress is no longer suitable to wear."

Hearing regret in his voice, Vezely responded with a hopeful idea, "Maybe it can still serve a purpose. Mother is taking me to a seamstress in Alqualondë tomorrow to design a wedding gown," she explained with slight wryness, for this was a strange errand to attend to. "This gown could provide the designer some ideas on how to incorporate Easterling style into it. That is," she looked at him slyly, "If you are willing to part with it," causing him to laugh slightly at her tease.

"Lord Legolas," a knock and a call from his entryway stalled his own witty reply.

"Yes," he returned dryly, sharing with Vez a look of mild annoyance at the interruption.

"Lord Oropher requests your audience," the messenger called back.

"Inform him we will be there soon," he called back.

"I better change," Vezely remarked about to stand up when Legolas held onto her hand, causing her head to tilt in curiosity.

"He can wait," he told her, taking her hand and kissing the back of it, for he desired to look upon her wearing that dress a little longer.

* * *

"My my, Mannish sword making has improved over the ages," Dior declared impressed as he felt the balance of the slightly curved blade he held in front of him. He requested to see Vezely's sword when he found her carrying it through the house upon her return from Oropher's colony. "It is well balanced, but less ornate than my preference," he considered further, silently reading the Elvish inscribed on it and finding himself curious of the Rhunic script alongside it.

"It is not for decoration," she reminded him bluntly.

He laughed, "I suppose not. This is a sword for a...?"

"A general," Vezely answered forthrightly as he presented her the hilt, providing a polite duck of his head in gratitude for sharing.

After watching her sheath it in one stroke, he betrayed his ignorance on the subject of her past, "You were general of what exactly?"

She wondered of his interest, but answered anyway, "Once of the Easterling forces under Sauron, and more recently of the Reunited Easterling Coalition."

"I would very much like to hear your tales as general." The request caused her to look upon him as if she heard wrong. "I have two sons, neither are warriors," he explained crossing his arms. "Our house instead is known for being the fairest. While beauty is indeed a blessing, it is rather dull, don't you think?"

Vez smirked forgoing her own thoughts on the subject. At least her grandfather would not be adverse to hearing tales of warfare, though she knew not what other members of her family would think if she talked so openly of her past trade.

* * *

Vezely's grandmother, Nimloth, and her mother greeted the esteemed Telerin seamstress as if they were the oldest and dearest of friends. Though Vezely assumed the chumminess was more because they were important and wealthy clientele. On the ride to Alqualondë her grandmother touted her as the best designer this side of Aman; saying there was no one else the House of Dior would entrust with 'a most important task.'

Designing a wedding gown seemed about as frivolous a task as any Vezely could have been involved in.

"...One only wears the very best on their wedding day," Nimloth explained on the ride there.

"If that is true, then why can I not wear the best armor?" Vezely asked pointedly, knowing the request was her simply acting petulant.

Rovian and Nimloth exchanged a look of consternation before Nimloth replied calmly, "Now that would be most inappropriate, even worse than your current desire to carry that sword at your hip."

Nimloth would undoubtedly continue her concern over Vezely's new accessory. Granted, her general's sword looked slightly out of place adorning any of the elaborate gowns currently in her wardrobe, but a warrior should not be without her weapon. And it was not uncommon for lords to wear their weaponry in Valinor, even if the instruments were to go unused.

...The seamstress turned to greet the just introduced young elleth, but in lieu of a pleasant welcome she stammered in surprised honesty, "My child, what in Valinor happened to your hair?"

Vezely's eyes narrowed on the elf before her. "Why? Is there something wrong with it?" She asked sternly, and unintentionally her hand moved to the hilt of the sword that hung at her hip, causing the seamstress uncertainty of further response

"Her hairstyle is common of the culture she hails from," Rovian quickly interfered, stepping in front of her daughter and mother-in-law, who looked appalled that yet another exchange over her granddaughter's chopped hair was occurring. "And it is also related to why we are here to ask for your services in designing a cross-cultural gown for her wedding."

"Cross-cultural? I was not aware Silvan populations have started to cut their hair as such," the seamstress queried Rovian, still fixated on the prior topic of Vezely's hair.

"No, the cultures I refer to are of the Edain and Eldar," Rovian corrected her. And trying again to bring the subject back to the wedding, she took from her daughter's hand the old Rhunic gown, displaying it to her and afterwards pleading for its style to be incorporated into the gown they desired commissioned.

"...It is not impossible, of course," the seamstress bragged of her abilities after being asked if this was too difficult a task for her skills; a means for Rovian to goad her into complying. "...I will provide several designs from which you can choose..." Despite the seamstress's confusion as to the nature of this request, she would not deny services to one of the wealthiest and well-known families in Valinor.

* * *

"Two weeks and you will be wed," Rovian mused cheerfully while sitting next to her daughter on the seashore; both were barefoot and digging her toes into the warm white sand. They had spent the morning gardening, much to Rovian's delight to have her company. "...It is perhaps the most significant event in the life of an Elf. Your father and I did not have a ceremony, but one is not necessary to become husband and wife."

"Remind me again why I have to have one," she remarked sarcastically, provided her mother a cheeky half-smile after. She understood quite well why it was important for their House's social standing.

"Keep thinking of it as a celebration for your families," Rovian told her again, adding with some optimism, "And the wedding night is for you. It is only when you lay together that you become wedded in the eyes of Eru."

"Yes, I know," Vezely confirmed her understanding bluntly, remembering when this same information was relayed to her by Legolas in Minas Tirith, much to her unpleasant surprise back then.

"It is an...unusual act," Rovian started uncertain, but thinking it her motherly duty to speak of the wedding night with her daughter, as her own mother once did with her.

Considering what she meant by 'unusual' rather than realizing Rovian was attempting to prepare her for something that should have been new, she replied assuredly, "I suppose it seems that way at first, but it's all rather instinctive."

Rovian stared at her daughter curiously for it seemed a strange reply; her sudden silence caused Vezely to turn her gaze.

"You speak as if," Rovian queried still in thought, but not believing her thoughts, she called off her concern, "Oh never mind."

"Oh." Vez suddenly realized her gaffe, diverting her eyes. "Well," she grimaced slightly, feeling remiss in forgetting the culture she now found herself in.

Rovian placed a hand over her open mouth, and her eyes wavered on her young daughter in disbelief.

This reaction led Vezely to explain defensively, "I was raised by Men, mother. And I spent my entire life in the militia. It would have been unusual to not have taken men to my bed."

Rovian shook her head worriedly, speaking as if short of breath, "You must not speak of this. It could forfeit your marriage."

"Legolas already knows. We worked through it in the past," she quickly confirmed, bitterly remembering that cold event. Rovian's concern, however, did not leave her eyes, so Vezely explained further, "In the culture I was raised, it does not mean what it means for the Eldar. It is just simple pleasure and I was not in love, far from it." She breathed in deeply and turned her strained gaze back to the horizon, declaring, "Regardless of how others view it, for myself, it makes my wedding night no less important."

Rovian did not know what this meant in the eyes of Eru, though perhaps seeing as this was her daughter's new body and she was cleansed in the Halls of Mandos, it mattered less so; or at least that is what she hoped. Copying her daughter's turned gaze, she also became silent, uncertain what else to say and feeling somewhat distanced from understanding her.

Vezely refused to feel ashamed, but she could tell by her mother's unusual reticence that knowledge of her past partners made her uncomfortable. _No one else needs to know,_ she thought further.

* * *

"Bellethiel?" Rovian knocked on her daughter's door.

"Come in," Vezely called from within her room, no longer fazed by her parent's use of her Elvish name.

"Hilneth is wondering..." she opened the door to find her with a burning piece of paper in one hand and one of Hilneth's sewing needles in the other, swaying it back and forth over the flame. She then realized a few other sewing needles had been threaded through Vezely's earlobe. "You are not?" she paused, watching her shake the flame out and return to the mirror to stab another part of her ear with the heated needle.

"I'll return them to her soon," she spoke looking at her mother's reflection in the mirrored vanity, unconcerned by the inflicted pain and the look of miscomprehension on her mother's face.

Rovian let it be; accepting it as her daughter's means of adjustment; as was cutting her hair, wearing trousers, and carrying her sword.

* * *

Gimli swayed back and forth on the wooden rocking chair, a lush throw blanket was draped over his shoulders and he held onto his cane in front of him. He had spent the better part of the morning under the shady trees in Oropher's colony telling the life stories of the Fellowship companions to Vezely. She comfortably sat before him cross legged on the polished wooden boards of the flet, a scarf characteristically draped over her head as a hood, and her sword lying nearby. She found herself fully engaged in the tales of old acquaintances, asking questions as she had them. Legolas was on a settee reading, and Vezely knew he was only partially following along, as remembrance still stung him slightly. "...I could tell you more of Eowyn and Faramir, that is, if tales concerning the Steward don't give you ill thoughts."

"Well, as one of my many adversaries, his memory is not the most bile inducing," Vezely remarked wryly.

"You do not still hold a grudge against him?" Legolas raised his head from his book. And trying to mediate some reason against it, he recalled, "He spoke only kind words for the hope of your return and our reunion."

Vezely shifted her position, milling through her thoughts which remained foul on the Steward before adding bluntly in his direction, "Well I never ordered anyone to shoot him."

Legolas looked back down at his page and shook his head, finding himself more amused than surprised or even displeased in her unwillingness to let bygones be, while Gimli chuckled quite hardily.

"I just had a most amusing thought," Gimli spoke through his continued mirth, "Your children are going to be most stubborn. Yes, most stubborn indeed. Oh the trouble they'll cause you..."

Vezely's eyes widened and brow furled, as she looked upon Gimli bewildered by the mention of children, a subject she never took time to consider. Legolas kept his face downcast, as he felt heat rush to his cheeks, and he quietly prayed that Gimli would not betray his past musings on the subject of children with her.

"...That I won't be here to see their pretty little faces," Gimli added in a huff, but with a smile still visible under his gray beard. "Now Arwen and Aragorn's three wee ones, they were bright as a clear spring, clever little rascals that is..."

Gimli continued his storytelling, going on to tell of all the children the members of the Fellowship had throughout the years. Vezely would quickly relax her expression, letting the discomfort of the subject as it pertained to her and Legolas pass.

..."There are chairs on which you can sit," Thranduil interrupted during a pause in Gimli's story in order to chastise his future daughter-in-law for sitting on the ground as if she was an elfling.

Legolas looked up from his book, having sensed but ignored his father's quiet entrance into their space.

"Noted," Vez replied indifferent, her gaze staring up at the king, "But I am accustomed to sitting as such."

Thranduil gave her a concentrated stare but forwent a reply, moving instead through the space, having to step over her sword to do so, in order to ascend the steps to another part of the family's residence.

"As I was saying," Gimli continued, "Elfwine was the son of Eomer and the lovely Lady Lothíriel."

"I remember the child's mention," Vezely recalled, "It was by chance I met Aragorn and Eomer in Rhovanion and Eomer spoke of his son being born just that past winter."

"Aye, we remember the news Aragorn brought of your meeting lass. Bad business it was out there on those borderlands, though it was," he stroked his beard a bit considering.

Vezely straightened her posture, remarking sardonically through narrowed eyes as if still a general, "The enemy and their games. The burning of those fields kick started the inevitable war. Shame I could not have met them under better circumstances."

As Gimli continued his tale, Legolas remembered the letter she had written after that chance meeting; the one Aragorn returned with, along with his own words of concern for what he witnessed in her dark manner while there. It was the only correspondence he had during the length of her absence. The letter was yet tucked away in the same trunk that carried her sword and gown; having been forgotten in the pages of a book of poems. Though the feelings it evoked were easily remembered.

* * *

Thranduil handed his son the novel he just finished, believing he might find interest in it as one of the many titles that Valinor's vast libraries held. The former king had already fallen into similar routines as before the journey West, but he found joyful renewal in being with his wife.

"...I am one less enthusiastic about the swiftness of this ceremony," he bluntly brought up the only topic ailing him while looking out upon the cascading light falling through the tree tops. "Is it not wiser to reacquaint yourself with your betrothed before committing?"

Legolas set down the book on the nearby table, foregoing an answer until his father was done lecturing.

Thranduil continued stoically, "Our memories serve us well, but even we can falter in remembrance of one another when time changes us also."

"Perhaps both of us have changed," Legolas considered, "But the bond we shared upon first discovered, it remains. Even another hundred years apart could not change the feelings I have. I know she is not the wife you envisioned for me and that is why you desire me pause."

Thranduil knew his son could see straight through him, "She remains...unusual."

"And for that I am glad," Legolas stated assuredly, a smirk present as he grabbed an apple from the bowl nearby, "Her unusualness is what drew me to her in the first place." Then remembering how Vezely also liked the fruit, he asked mirthfully, "Could I take two of these?"

Looking upon his son, Thranduil noticed something he had not seen in some time; the shadow once cast about him had broken and he seemed to breathe the life he remembered of him so long ago. He looked younger, if that was even possible for an Elf, and carefree, as he once was in his youth.

"Father?" Legolas noted his father's thoughts were distanced.

Thranduil waved his hand, acquiescing to the request for the fruit and turned his eyes away.

Legolas let it be, and before leaving, added, "Her parents will be here soon. Please be kind."

* * *

Rovian and Eluréd stood aside their trouser-clad daughter, who was holding a basket of persimmons and figs. As Vezely offered it to Thranduil's wife as a polite gesture of goodwill, Rovian explained, "These are from our family's garden, harvested by my daughter and I just this morning."

Legolas looked at Vezely in disbelief, speaking out of turn, "You gardened?"

Vezely sneered at him before Legolas's mother had even taken the basket from her hands. Her bright eyes shifted from her son, who was now trying to contain his laughter, back to their guests, who looked just as unsure of a response. Vezely had not removed her glare from him. But being poised, his mother offered them gratitude for the gift.

It was to be an important meeting between their parents; one of many pleasantries that customarily took place before the ceremony. And both sides desired to present themselves properly. Of course, Rovian and Eluréd confessed more nerves in this matter, seeing as they were once subjects under King Thranduil in Mirkwood.

"...If you would follow us," she requested of Vezely's parents, leaving the couple there.

Legolas smirked and Vezely crossed her arms, her eyes yet narrowed upon him. He pulled from his robe's pocket the apple he took from his father's fruit bowl just prior. "Peace offering," he said handing it to her. A smile lit her face as she recognized the fruit, for she enjoyed eating them in Minas Tirith, especially during her second breakfasts with the hobbit clan.

Making a move to grab it, Legolas swiped it away and swiftly took a bite of it himself, a smug expression appearing on his face as he chewed.

Her mouth momentarily opened, but remembering his prior offer of peace, she remarked slyly, "So we are at war then?"

He smiled at her with a twinkle in his eye, "Maybe."

"Oh. Careful now," she teased, raising an eyebrow, "I am well versed in that."

"On second thought," he pulled a second apple from his pocket and took her hand to place it in it, "I would not want to anger a general and a gardener."

"You are lucky I would rather eat this than throw it," she remarked wryly, though she found herself overly amused and glad to see him in such a bright mood.

A smile yet present on his face, he offered her his hand, "Come on, we have work to do today."

They would be helping with the construction of their home, out on the borders of the colony. With some luck and some Elvish precision, their residence would be ready in time to move in after their wedding.


	58. Old Habits

Legolas watched as Vezely carefully poured the piping hot green liquid into three small clay cups; his legs already starting to feel slightly seated on the floor at the lowered table. Being the youngest she was obligated by Rhunic standards to pour the tea once it brewed. She informed him on their journey there not to speak until it was poured, tasted, and their host spoke first. All Easterling etiquette she knew they would be expected to perform.

They were given invitation to the abode of the Blue Istari, Pallando, or Romestamo as he was known in Rhun. It was their opportunity to humbly request his presence at their wedding and, Vezely hoped, have him preside over the Easterling tradition of hearth lighting.

Tall and thin, with a long white goatee and matching thin mustache, and bushy white eyebrows, Romestamo was an unassuming specter as many of the Istari were, though one could see in his eyes the wisdom of the ages. These same eyes continued to interrogate the blonde-haired ellon that Vezely brought with her; unintentionally making Legolas uneasy. But it did not take him long to speak after sipping the bitter brew. "I have heard tales spoken and ballads sung in praise of Legolas Thranduilion," he announced while holding his cup before him as if about to take another sip, "Brave and true, friend of all races, the greatest shot of the Third Age, the most tireless of the Fellowship..." Legolas ducked his head in humility as Romestamo listed the traits he was renowned by before saying in consideration, "But they do not speak of his patience."

Legolas returned his eyes to the Istari, tilting his head ever so slightly to the side. "Patience, my lord?" He politely inquired of his meaning.

Romestamo took another sip of tea and placed the cup on the table before responding assuredly of his meaning, "The patience you must have to deal with the one beside you." Vezely smirked and resisted rolling her eyes, knowing it was Romestamo's character to ridicule her when given the opportunity.  "Frankly you need all the patience in Arda if you intend to wed her."

A glance at Vezely's current disposition made Legolas realize his words were not ill-taken but expected, much to his relief. He cracked a half-smile as the Maiar continued his thoughts, "We always intended to send her westward, hoping she would meet one of her kin and thus see with her own eyes their ways. Of course, she thought we were sending her into the lion's den with the little she knew of Elves."

Vezely crossed her arms, deciding to defend her past misunderstandings. "I had every reason to believe my crimes warranted death and the West would deal it to me, regardless of going as your messenger," she stated sardonically of the task she was sent on; the reason she found herself on the edge of Fangorn Forest. "I did not think Elves were so soft or that Rohan would not want my head on a pike to adorn their banner strung halls."

Stroking his thin beard, Romestamo groaned as one slightly annoyed with an untrained puppy. "Yes, patience."

Legolas found himself trying to imagine their past interactions; knowing Vezely must have continually tested the Maiar's patience when she resided in his home in Rhun.

"At least your Sindarin is sounding less guttural then when you left," he added, this occasion being the first time hearing her use it. "You should have seen her resistance to learning it, saying it was impossible," he informed Legolas.

"My native language is Rhunic and the books you expected me to learn from taught Sindarin through the West's Common Speech. Of course I ran into difficulties," she informed back sounding annoyed.

Romestamo groaned again, placing his empty cup down only for Vezely to dutifully refill it for him. "I am surprised she is even marrying. And to an Elf of such repute no less," he directed his speech to Legolas again.

"I am not one for following expectations," Vezely replied dryly, placing the teapot down. Their banter reminded her of their past relations when she was a guest in his home on the edges of Rhun's greatest desert. Even back then she was expected to pour his tea.

"A statement I can agree with," he noted equally dry. Despite Vezely's ability to bring out the curmudgeon in him, Romestamo had grown fond of the uncouth youth entrusted into his care after her rescue from the dungeons of Dol Guldor. "Now what have you journeyed the day away to ask me? For a wedding invitation can be sent by carrier..."

The request to preside over their wedding ceremony was well-received, just as Vezely expected. And from the brief visit Legolas learned quite a lot about Vezely and the transition she experienced in those years just prior to meeting him on the edge of Fangorn. It was a strange twist of fate that brought them together, he thought, and an even stranger road that led them here in the lead up to their wedding.

* * *

They rode back to her family's chateau that evening, stopping momentarily at where their home had started to be built. The moon and stars seemed to exude more light in Valinor that the land about them was softly illuminated and the foundation just laid was easily seen.

Vezely jumped from her horse, moving to inspect what had been finished in the day they had spent visiting Romestamo. She circled around a large square inset in the ground which would become the home's center and its hearth; something they both decided to incorporate into the plans.  Looking down upon the perfectly smooth masonry and polished stone, an Elvish rendition of a nomad's hearth but a hearth nonetheless, she confessed quietly, "It is hard to believe. I will have a home. A real home." _Officers do not have homes,_ she thought further. _Their homes are their obligations, the oaths they swore, and the men whose lives they are in put in charge of._

Instead of replying to her shared introspection, Legolas stepped behind her and wrapped her in his arms. She never knew one could feel safe in the arms of another, nor did she ever seek such a place to escape to. But with him, she could let the feeling of calm overtake her; she could give herself over to that feeling of protection. She fell slightly back into his embrace, closing her eyes at the pleasure that came from feeling his strong chest against her back and the warmth beginning to circulate between them.

Her hair smelled of jasmine with a slight hint of smoke. The latter because she enjoyed some pipe weed with Gimli earlier that morning before their departure; much to the distaste of other Elves who were less inclined to inhale the fumes of burning leaves. When the occasion called for it, or in this case when Gimli invited her saying it was the last she'd probably ever see of the Shire variety, Vezely had no qualms in partaking in the activity. For Legolas, the scent reminded him of cherished company; of his Middle Earth companions who all smoked a pipe from time to time.

She turned her head and greeted him with a thoughtful smile, adding warmly, "Our home." In two weeks time they would begin their married lives living on the edge of his grandfather's colony, but close enough to the coastline where in the evenings they could hear the waves crashing on the shore in the distance.

"Our home," he repeated words whose actualization he had always desired; to one day find someone to share a home with, a bed with, and a life with. The years witnessing his friend's deaths had broken him, made him listless, and uncertain. After Aragorn's death, both his father and Gimli prodded him to sail, and he did so only with allowance of Gimli by his side. In truth, Gimli would not have left Middle Earth if not for worrying about his friend. Gimli knew Legolas's fear well; that in Valinor she would not be there. If he could consol him through that transition, to be there for his friend one last time, then he would brave the waters and cross over to foreign shores. This fear was now a memory, along with much of his pain. His gaze remained locked on the starlit ones below him; through her he regained a will to live.

She slowly brought her hand to the back of his neck and traced her fingers forward along his jaw line; beckoning ever so slightly for him to move his lips closer. Her light touch was enough for him to comply, as he first inched his nose to touch the tip of hers. They had not had the chance to fully rekindle the physicality that their relationship experienced prior Vezely's departure. There were simply fewer opportunities to be alone.

She pressed her lips against his gently, and turned slightly in his hold, his hands yet upon her waist. The softness of her lips and the feeling of her movement against him immobilized him momentarily, for kissing her still felt new. But the spell on him broke when she inched back, the tip of her nose touching his once again.

"We should return before they question our whereabouts," Vezely whispered, her eyes yet closed though she made no movement. Her grandmother remarked upon leaving that morning to not elope on their journey, but she said it not for levity's sake. And having taken a longer route back, exploring the trails in the mountains nearby, it was already past the time they should have returned.

"We should." He knew her meaning, and he had similar expectations placed upon him but he did not loosen his embrace. Instead he found her soft lips again and kissed her as he desired to prior, causing her to turn to face him and while there she rose slowly up on her tiptoes pressing herself closer into him, and his hands found their way farther down her backside. She was wearing trousers which unlike a gown did not impede the feeling of her shape underneath them. His mind flashed back to Ithilien, recalling the glimpse he had of her leaving the lake where they swam; her thin white sheath soaking wet and clinging to her body. He also pressed her closer to him.

Unimpeded by propriety, Vezely savored him touching her somewhere new. Her fingers tangled in his long hair as they moved down to his neckline, tracing the high collar of his thick robes. Her palms stopped on top of his chest as her mind imagined him without his garments. She desired to unclasp the butterfly broach he wore at his throat, and to undo each of the clasps below that kept his tunic on. It would be so easy, she thought as she kissed him deeper and opening her mouth slightly more to explore. She was surprised to find him accepting of it and it was then that she forced her hands back to the sides of his face, trying to avoid her strong desire of disrobing him.

He knew she was experienced. Perhaps it made him feel slightly inadequate for he feared he could not please her. Yet he trusted her to lead him into these new territories without such expectations; that her past mattered not to their future union.

She pulled her kiss away slowly, but made his bottom lip linger between hers, leaving him to moan at the feeling. Vezely looked upon his face, finding his eyes yet closed in rapture of the sensation she provided. It felt good to please him.

Slight embarrassment by his vocalization slowed the opening of his eyes, and when he did he found her looking upon him alluringly. She tucked a strand of his unbraided hair behind his ear before dancing her fingers over his butterfly clasp at his collar. "Two weeks," she said keeping her eyes on the silver jewelry, "Two weeks until," she bit her lip before looking back into his eyes. Legolas blushed knowing what she referred to and the pink now appearing on his cheeks brought an endearing smile to her face. Hoping to relieve his embarrassment, she added with a smirk, "And there is much to do before then."

He laughed slightly, "I am looking forward to it."

"Are you?" Vezely returned in disbelief, "The preparations, the rehearsals, then having to parade ourselves in front of everyone?"

"Not that," he brought his hands back around her waist, and pulled her close again "I am looking forward to seeing those flowers in your hair."

"Oh, are you now?" she raised an eyebrow, saying cockily, "I have not yet decided what I will wear in my hair that day, since the bride does have some choice it seems."

"Flowers," he told her sternly, bringing a hand gently to her cheek, "And I will not let you remove them until the sun rises the following day."

Some heat rushed to her cheeks at the thought of that night, and she added in amusement, "As long as I don't have to keep the rest of my wedding attire on."

Unable to hide his embarrassment, he ducked his head down slightly. She lifted his chin with one finger and waited until his eyes found hers again.

That moment, of sharing affection through their gaze, held remembrance of those nights in Minas Tirith when their time together was short and every minute precious; when they feared thinking about the future. But now, forward thinking thoughts brought them only joy.

Their pupils also reflected the sparkling stars above and eventually Vezely rested her head on his shoulder, as he rested his own aside hers.

"The stars still shine," Legolas whispered the familiar phrase softly into her ear.

"And there is no more darkness to veil them," Vezely returned softly, her eyes still closed. The appreciative thought brought small smiles to each of their faces as they held each other a little longer before returning home.

* * *

"Now _that_ was unsportsmanlike conduct," Dior cried foul at the tactic Vezely used during a friendly sparring match that landed him on the ground and her sword at his throat.

"It matters not to a dead opponent," Vezely remarked while removing her sword and offering him her hand after; the same hand which unbalanced him in a fighting style unknown to the Eldar.

Dior smirked, accepting her assistance and afterwards began straightening his fancy tunic and fixing his long hair which had become disheveled. The esteemed ellon was inspired to dust off his own ancient collection of weapons and proudly display them to her, much to Nimloth's disapproval. But during the exhibition he also discovered an urge to wield them.

Vezely sheathed her sword and picked up one of the short swords Dior had brought out, thrusting it forward to feel its balance and thinking about how it would be good for shielded infantry.

"That is from Doriath..." Dior explained the journey of the sword that a former captain of his guard returned to him after he sailed.

"...You desire to hear stories of the wars of Rhun, and I desire to hear tales of the battles of First Age Beleriand. Of Melkor and Angband," Vezely mentioned while her eyes were still inspecting the intricately etched blade.

"And for those you should ask the Noldor involved," Dior told her directly while replacing the gold cufflink he removed prior to sparring, "I can give you no more detail than what has been written."

Vezely turned towards him, asking in a tone betraying her deeper interest, "Those responsible for your death and for father's kidnapping, do they walk these lands?" She had been wondering if the sons of _Fëanor_ who sacked Menegroth to reclaim the Silmarils were released from the Halls of Mandos as she.

"Aye, though they lead rather recluse existences if you seek an audience," he replied, now gauging her interest.

"I do not, just curious," she turned again to place the sword down and move on to the next weapon in the line. Vezely could not help but wonder of those like herself; of Eldar who also needed pardon from the Valar to live in the Blessed Realm and their adjustment after. To her, their crimes seemed insignificant but then again she did not have full understanding of the Silmarils or the First Age.

"You two are still out here?" Nimloth faked ignorance in returning to check on them, worrying about her husband falling into sword play. But seeing the rip in Dior's garments turned her attention, "What happened to your tunic?"

"Our granddaughter got the better of me," he stated amused.

Nimloth turned her eyes to Vezely who was more interested in inspecting another one of Dior's weapons instead of listening to her. "To think you still keep all those," her tone was one of distaste for her husband's sword collection.

"There is no harm in it," Dior stated unconcerned, "And a friendly match every now and then is a welcome treat, that is if Vezely does not find an elder like me a waste of time;" the deprecating remark caused Vezely to laugh slightly.

"Treat or not, there will be no sparring so close to her ceremony!" Nimloth exclaimed to her husband, and continuing hastily, "The invitations are sent, everything is prepared, the last thing we need is her injured. What would they say if they saw the bride bruised on her wedding day?"

"More likely her grandfather would be bruised," Dior remarked in earnest, providing a respectful nod to Vezely after. "But my dear," he took Nimloth's hand and kissed the back of it with one smooth, fluid motion, "We will honor your wishes. And not to mention, this respite will give me time to practice..."

* * *

Nimloth was often the last one ready to depart for family outings and this morning was no exception. Vezely would be returning with her mother and grandmother to Alqualondë to try on the finished wedding gown. Knowing she had some time to waste, she decided to go for a walk on her family's beaches; hoping to enjoy the calming waves and thus calm her mind, knowing the rest of the day was devoted to hectic ceremony preparations.

She wore trousers and a pair of new riding boots, the latter commissioned and couriered to her just the day before. Her sword was at her side, clasped over a plum colored tunic, and she wore a lilac scarf loosely around her neck which she fashioned from a shawl already in her wardrobe. Her garments finally felt familiar again, and she looked forward to the comfort and ease of riding in them.

She forgot that the time she set foot on the sands was right about when Noldorin riders often rode their horses up the shoreline. The sound of horse's galloping alerted her to their presence and she turned to see two riders on large white stallions ascending upon her quickly, obviously trying to show off their riding prowess with their ability to control their horses precisely as they maneuvered them to circle around her.

 _"See, my friend,"_ Prince Arakano remarked in Noldorin to his companion trotting behind him as he slowed to a leisurely gallop, _"It is indeed not a young ellon as you thought, but Lord Dior's granddaughter."_

 _"You have proven me wrong, my friend, and this elleth has proven me surprised! She truly cannot be one from the line of Luthien as you say,"_ he called back in the same tongue, finding her shortened hair and trousers unappealing.

Vezely was already annoyed by their staged approach, but further disgruntlement came at the miscomprehension of their speech. Her hand remained gripped on the hilt of her sword.

"Apologies for the approach, Lady Vezely," Arakano finally acknowledged her using Sindarin, pulling on his horse's reins to stop aside her. "We do not often see many walking these shores during this time. I hope the sunshine finds you well this morning."

Forgoing any pleasantries, she warned him darkly, "You are lucky this is not Middle Earth. For your horses would now be without their front legs and you your head if you were to ride upon me as such there."

"Pardon?" Arakano blinked, now finding himself the one in utter miscomprehension.

"You heard me correctly," she added still strong of tone.

 _"I repeat what I said prior,"_ his companion spoke beside himself in Noldorin, _"Surprised indeed."_ The remark garnered him her narrowed eyes.

"We of course meant no harm by our approach, my lady," Arakano replied and slightly ducked his head to appear apologetic; not wanting to cause trouble with her, or more so with her family.

"Then your meaning? If you desire to impress me, then step down from your horse, unsheathe that overly embellished sword at your side, and fight me."

 _"Did she just challenge you to a duel?"_ His friend asked in disbelief.

She transferred her dark gaze to his partner and the coldness of her stare caused him to shift slightly in his saddle. She extended her offer, "You are encouraged to join him and even the odds."

Arakano laughed uncomfortably, "You should not play with words, my lady. It is unbecoming for one of your stature."

"Oh, I assure you, I do not play with words," Vezely's thumb unlatched the sword from its holder.

"Good morning, Lord Arakano, Lord Glandur," Eluréd greeted them quickly with his hastened approach, causing Vezely to still her hand. He came down to the beach to tell his daughter that her grandmother and mother were ready to leave when noting the tension brewing in their circle; the hand remaining on her sword's hilt and the body language of the two Noldorin lords becoming progressively more uncomfortable. "Apologies for interrupting," he added after stopping aside his daughter, "But I was given the urgent task of telling my daughter of her desired return."

"It is well to see you again, Lord Eluréd. And you were not interrupting, we were about to be on our way," Arakano responded with a nod, afterwards shuffling his horse's position slightly. "Please tell your beautiful wife, a pleasant hello from me," he then looked down upon Vezely, "And may your day be pleasant, my lady."

Vezely smirked, finding amusement in what she saw as a cowardly retreat from her offer. She forewent a response, causing Eluréd to respond for her.

"And may the breeze be at your backs," the older Elf spoke, ducking his head slightly in respect to the two Noldorin lords.

Vezely kept her narrowed eyes on their shrinking forms as they rode.

"Was there a problem?" Eluréd asked concerned, looking upon the side of her face.

"No," her eyes and demeanor shifted, and with a small smile she added, "I am grateful to hear it is time to depart."

Eluréd did not believe her, but left the situation lie for now.

* * *

"What do you think of these?" Rovian stopped in front of a row flowering plants in their garden. The delicate blooms were a unique mixture of white, purple, and plum petals.

"Think of what?" Vezely inquired back unsure of what she was referring, and not finding anything spectacular in the plant below her, or its flowers, which for her were the same as any other.

"These for your bridal circlet," Rovian countered back as if she was daft. "It is an old Silvan tradition for the bride to cultivate her own flowers or to gather them from a place near to her home."

"I thought they were supposed to be white," Vezely asked, forgoing sharing her opinion on wearing them and it was the only other descriptor she heard of the wedding's hair accessory outside of it being floral.

"Well, your gown is going to be white," Rovian slowly revealed her angle, "And I don't see any harm in adding some color. And these perfectly match that Rhunic gown that inspired the design."

Vezely then realized her mother had put some careful thought into this choice and despite her desire to scoff at the accessory or dismiss it, she found herself appreciative, "Alright, these could work." _At least Legolas will be pleased_ , she thought slightly miffed as her mother began detailing more wedding rituals.

* * *

Before sitting down, Thalion handed Legolas three more letters that arrived that morning. The Woodland Realm ambassador sailed alongside him and his father, realizing his time had come and knowing Ithilien would not be the same without his childhood friend. Prodded by the smile upon his friend's face he remarked, "I cannot easily recall the last time I saw you in this bright a mood. And I do not believe it is because of the bloated praise you keep receiving from these Valinorians."

Legolas laughed slightly and shook his head as he proceeded to break a wax seal on one of the letters. As expected, it was another request for an audience with him and Gimli. Many who held important titles in Valinor desired to treat with the last members of the Fellowship. He did not expect to have garnered such honor from very distant kin or from among far worthier names. He felt humbled and bit unsure how to mediate it.

"The praise at least distills any possible question of your marriage," Thalion added yet jovial, as he lounged back on the chair. Concern over his marriage seemed nonexistent compared to the surprise it stirred in Minas Tirith upon first announced. "But I did overhear an interesting conversation in Alqualondë yesterday," Thalion stopped and rubbed his chin, gauging his own intrigue.

Legolas lifted his eyes onto his now introspective friends, wary if he needed to be concerned. "And?" He prodded him to continue.

"Well, your wedding is being talked about, and mention of your bride-to-be walking around in trousers and carrying a sword at her hip has also been noted as odd. But, and this is what I find fascinating," Thalion leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table, now speaking as if he was relaying a well-kept secret. "When one recalls that she is of the House of Dior, they no longer question it. It is strange, is it not? How that line is considered in quite a different light than it is in Middle Earth, though Lord Elrond is given reprieve of course," he realized suddenly, "And it is not that Luthien is unrenowned, but it seems Lord Dior has garnered quite a different reputation for him and his house in the last ages here and Lady Vezely fits well with it."

Legolas breathed an imperceptible sigh of relief, believing it was about Vezely's past and that it would continue to haunt her. He desired for them to wed only in good faith, and to live their lives quietly. Though looking again at the mass of letters requesting introduction also made him realize his own fame needed to die down first.

"You wouldn't happen to have any requests for attendance in Tirion," Thalion picked up a small pile of envelops and began shuffling through to read who they were from. "I would very much like to visit Lady Adele and if I were to be in your company, it would provide the perfect excuse..." Lady Adele had sailed with her Uncle, Celeborn, a few years after the end of the war. Thalion had not forgotten her.

* * *

The snoring progressively rose before faltering off again, continuing in that cycle for some time. Yet neither Vezely nor Legolas had the heart to disturb their slumbering friend. The afternoon had become warmer than usual and Gimli fell asleep while resting his bearded chin on his chest. They had sat down to enjoy an afternoon snack together; some strawberries, baked scones, and fresh honey. A bit of a decadent treat for an ordinary afternoon, but they recently had been given an abundance of food gifts; baskets of goods sent along with required response letters announcing attendance at their approaching wedding.

Vezely had her chair caddied next to Legolas's; they were reading the same book together. She had never taken to reading literature, and her poor handle on Elvish prose required some adjustment, but she saw it as an opportunity to learn a little more about the culture she now found herself in.

Legolas watched her endearingly as she read, having already concluded the same page while she lagged slightly behind.

After finishing, she scrunched her nose, "Why does he not just take it? Kill the keeper, leave through the back entrance..." She inquired of the story's protagonist. It was fiction novel, where the hero was appointed the task of winning back a family heirloom; a jewel his family lost to another family of well-repute long ago.

Surprised she had gotten into the story at all and enough to be riled by it amused Legolas; he half-smiled while yet looking upon the side of her face, "I do not think that trajectory would provide the story with any morals."

"Morals? I do not want my texts providing morals but entertainment," she sat back in a huff, though she minded her tone not to wake Gimli. "I think I'll stick to those history texts that detail the First Age wars," she looked towards the tomes Legolas had gathered at her request.

"The wars are entertainment then?" Legolas asked her skeptically, raising an eyebrow.

She pressed her lips together as she reached for a strawberry. Pinching its bright green stem, she dangled the perfectly red fruit into her purview to inspect, and evading answering the question she added assuredly, "One can learn morals from history as well," her eyes afterwards flicking over to his.

"One can," he agreed with a single nod, then saying playfully, "Though I do not think you intend to look for them."

Forgoing a response, Vezely proceeded to dunk her strawberry into the bowl of honey, despite the sweet fruit not needing any extra indulgence. She observed as the sticky orange liquid dripped off, twirling it slightly to keep it thickly coated and afterwards bringing it to her mouth. She briefly closed her eyes to savor the taste as the edges of her lips curled up. Legolas's eyes remained fixated on her and his mind filled with desire, making him shift slightly in his chair. Pretending she was unaware of his interest, Vezely repeated the task with a second strawberry, swirling it in the honey, and waiting until the excess dripped off. But instead of eating it herself, she turned towards him, bringing the honeyed treat to his lips while her other hand found his thigh under the table.

The seductive look on her face fully revealed her intent and Legolas gratefully received the offering, closing his eyes after to enjoy its taste. She watched him a moment longer before bringing her own lips to his, tasting the sweetness of the honey that remained as she kissed him softly; her hand gripped his inner thigh a little tighter.

Gimli snorted loudly, and began babbling himself awake, "Wha? What? As I was saying..."

Vezely nonchalantly returned her eyes to the book below her, licking off the tip of her finger some honey residue while she had not removed her hand from his thigh under the table. She smirked slightly, knowing what she had done to her partner beside her.

Legolas was a bit clumsier in his transition to normality.

"What was I saying?" Gimli queried, now looking upon the two Elves before them.

"You fell asleep my friend," Legolas finally told him in earnest, "Here," he pushed the fruit bowl towards him, "You should have more strawberries before Vezely eats them all."

Rather than replying to his jest, she slowly slid her hand slightly farther up his inner thigh and looked upon him with a smile, "I am sure that more will arrive, and hopefully with more honey too." Legolas knew the intent behind her words and he swallowed what remained of the sweetness in his mouth, trying his best to contain the heat rushing to his cheeks.

Unaware of their ongoing flirtations, Gimli pulled the bowl closer to him, "That would suit me just fine. I will happily eat to celebrate. That is one thing Elves and Dwarves do the same with weddings..."


	59. To Tirion

The smooth repeating sound of stone scrapping against cold steel, this was a warrior's form of meditation. There was no practical reason for Vezely to sharpen her sword. In Valinor there were no battles to be fought, no enemies to dispense of, and, she hoped, no need to defend herself. But that did not stop her from partaking in the familiar ritual after finding a whetstone in the vault where Dior kept his large weapon collection.

That evening Eluréd would find his daughter sitting cross-legged on the stone ledge of the upper terrace which overlooked the cliff face to the ocean below. He hesitated when first hearing the scrapping sounds competing against the waves crashing ashore, thinking he might be disturbing or intruding on her personal space.

Vezely did hear the slight shuffle of footsteps on the stone walkway behind her. Rather than ignoring the visitor, and assuming it was more likely to be a family member than one of the house's helpers, she turned her head. "Good evening, father," she greeted him with a welcoming smile, though finding the use of the title 'father' still strange on her tongue.

"Good evening. I am not disturbing you, am I?" He politely asked, trying to hide his uncertainty.

"Not at all. Besides I could use some disturbing before I move out of your residence," she remarked lightly, though she solemnly realized that recently she had not spent nearly enough time with her father. The wedding preparations allocated most of her time with her mother and grandmother instead.

Eluréd awkwardly replicated her style of sitting. "These weeks have gone by fast," he noted after settling, a smile still calm upon his face, though his eyes were unable to ignore the sharp blade she held comfortably in her lap. For him the sword was the most tangible sign of her prior profession; a reminder of who she became and what she did after she was taken from his life.

"They have," she agreed solidly after noting the briefness of his gaze. Gathering that perhaps the sword made him uncomfortable, she quickly sheathed it in one swift stroke. "I have enjoyed living by the sea again," she looked upon the calm dark waters below as they glistened and reflected the light of the stars in the night sky above.

"You have lived near such waters before?" He inquired, grateful she evoked further conversation for he was unsure of a topic.

"Long ago I was stationed near the Sea of Rhun with my troops. It is not as grand as the wide ocean before us, but there is a similar calm to it at night when boats are at dock and the city around you sleeps." She smirked slightly as she reflected on the utter quiet she would often find herself enjoying, "An Elf among Men. I am still unused to evening company..."

Eluréd found his thoughts turn to a precious moment from her childhood, one which remained dear to his heart. "Do you remember the first night I took you beyond the forest, to the crest above Esgaroth?"

Long shelved away and forgotten, the memory of this mini adventure took a moment to return to her. That night was the farthest she had ever ventured from their small home in Northern Mirkwood and she did so in the security of her father's arm. He desired to show her the best view of the stars that edge of the forest could afford. She replied with a pleasant thought, "I do remember riding your back there, since my feet grew tired from all the walking."

"You were so tiny then..." he recalled the same, and sharing his reflection further, "Those were some of the happiest years of my life, with you and your mother. You were such a blessing to us and the simple life we lived...I never did," he paused after his voice cracked. Sentimentality overtook him and he looked aside ashamed as long held guilt resurfaced for not protecting her or her mother that night. He was not a warrior, or a lord as he is now in Valinor. In Mirkwood, he was a simple river elf who held no renown among his kin. He mustered the courage to confess, albeit quietly, "I never did forgive myself for not stopping what happened to you that day."

Vezely placed a hand on his and squeezed it. Eluréd looked down upon it rather than into her eyes, reconciling again that this was not the tiny, fragile hand of his young daughter long ago. She knew what day he spoke of; when their home was attacked by Orcs, he and her mother were slain, and she was taken back to Sauron. "There was nothing you or anyone else could have done," she consoled him carefully but firmly, "What happened that day and all the days after, happened. Do not blame yourself, for I do not."

He brought his gaze to hers. Her voice was unwavering, and so were her eyes. He knew she spoke the truth of her feelings on this subject and perhaps in time he would accept it. He then asked a nagging question that always haunted him."Tell me, were you treated kindly by those who raised you? Those who watched you come of age, before," he again paused, not desiring to put into words what she became in her adulthood.

"They treated me as their own and I wanted for nothing," she returned resolute, unhindered by his fears of discussing the darker realities of her past, "I had a normal childhood for an Easterling. Perhaps even privileged."

"Knowing this brings me comfort," he told her after processing it, clasping the hand she provided him with both of his.

"And remembering the time we spent together brings me comfort," she replied providing him a warm smile, "Those stars over Esgaroth, they had me spellbound..."

* * *

Legolas's mother stood in front of her son with maternal pride beaming from her face as she adjusted the gold clasp on the off white robe he was trying on for the approaching wedding. "He looks handsome, does he not?" she cheerfully asked her husband nearby.

Thranduil stood observing the long missed interactions between mother and son; of seeing his small family back together again and his son's happiness returned to where it once was. "Indeed, and incredibly appropriate for a wedding. The question is whether your bride will follow suit," Thranduil remarked dryly.

"I heard from Lady Rovian that her gown is being designed by the best seamstress in Alqualondë," his mother informed, "I am sure she will look more than appropriate." She gave her son an encouraging nod, knowing her husband could harp on unnecessary trifles. "And speaking of which, I should make myself appropriate to leave," she realized it was nearing time to depart and quickly left father and son alone.

The wedding was on all their minds that morning as the three of them would be spending the afternoon at the House of Dior as guests of Rovian and Eluréd - more familial pleasantries to partake in before the big day.

Legolas returned to the mirror to look upon himself one last time before removing what he and his mother deemed the right choice for his wedding attire. He knew the next time he wore it would be on his wedding day.

In observing his son, Thranduil nostalgically recalled his own robe fitting before his wedding. He married in his youth, as is customary for most Elves, and at a time of relative peace; something his son was only now experiencing again. "You appear yourself once more," he broke the silence with his dogged opinion, "You are no longer in mourning." Legolas shifted his attention to the reflected image of his father in the mirror, who had walked aside him and placed a hand firmly on his shoulder. "I am glad it is so. Too long you have been in shadow, lingering in the pit formed by those forever lost from this world. I feared you would not return."

"So did I," Legolas agreed firmly, "But hope of a new future has returned to me."

"Valinor is so named a place of healing for a reason," Thranduil returned stoically, inspecting his son's robes as his mother did before.

"It is not the place," he turned to him, saying with confidence, "My hope resides with the one I am soon to marry."

Thranduil lifted his chin, "I recall you once being adamant about not marrying."

Legolas recalled the same, but found himself amused by it, "That I was. Strange how ones view on partnership can change when you find the right person. And she is right for me father, even if you think otherwise."

"I do not think otherwise," he corrected him sternly, for it was not Thranduil's place to deny his son's choice in marriage. "I desire only happiness for you. But I also know her penchant for causing disruptions..."

* * *

The couple held hands while strolling through the chateau's extensive rose gardens. The heat of the afternoon sun made the fragrance of the flowers thick in the air about them.

They had left their respective parents in conversation in one of the gazebos. Vezely peered back at them, finding an odd concern about the conversations they would hold, "Do you think they get along alright?"

"I do not see how they could not," Legolas reasoned back, "Your parents are surprisingly normal."

"Thanks," Vezely shot him a narrowed glance, knowing he saw and took the opportunity to imply her abnormality.

He chuckled, turning towards her and taking her other hand, "It is true though," adding sincerely, "And I am glad you appear on good terms with your parents and that they support you."

"I am grateful as well, though at times I think they wonder what their child could have been if she was not corrupted by heathens," she spoke dryly and cocked an eyebrow.

Whether or not her self-deprecation was for amusement, it was a thought Legolas did not immediately know how to respond to. For the differences her culture instilled in her, even now he could not imagine her personality without them. Although he could not deny that he wished her life had not been rerouted as it was; that she did not have to suffer through all she did.

"At least," Vezely did not notice his introspection and continued amused as they continued their walk, "I have found support from my grandfather. He quite likes what he refers to as my Mannish tendencies..."

Their stroll took them to the pearl strewn beaches below the chateau. They went barefoot onto the warm sands and Vezely inched ever closer to the crystal blue waters pulsing upon the shoreline, desiring to get her feet wet. The unrelenting afternoon sun was beating down on the tops of their heads, and their layers of garments, having both dressed proper for the formal meeting, were not helping.

"Have you ever swum in the ocean before?" Vezely asked out of the blue, the thought coming to her as the cool water felt pleasing in between her toes.

"Of course not," Legolas returned looking upon her curiously, his feet now just getting a taste of the water's offering.

She smirked, letting go of his hand as she moved towards the water, "Neither have I."

"Vezely!" He called after her, watching her toss the outer layer of her gown aside and run farther out into the pulsing waves. "You cannot just..." He watched her wade farther out, and when submerged up to her chest she turned around.

"The water is perfect!" She called to him, finding complete relief from the heat the sun had imparted on her."I do not know why I haven't done this yet!" She desired to swim out further, perhaps even to the small islands far off in the distance.

He stood there bemused. It was times like these that Vezely as an impetuous Elven youth showed, or perhaps it was her making up for the lack of carefree moments her past life afforded.

Vezely knew she could get him to follow her if she presented it as a challenge to be overcome. "You aren't afraid to follow me, are you prince?" She called to him mischievously, "I know you can swim! Unless the ocean is too large a pond for a forest dweller!"

Legolas knew her intent, and while he initially desired to be the mature Elf and to stay dry, he also found the cooling waters along with a chance to quell his partner's prodding tempting. Legolas removed his surcoat before slowly wading into the waters after her, hesitant with each step further soaking his pants.

Vezely did not make him chase her like she did in the pond in Ithilien. Instead she desired him to reach her. The waters were crystal clear that one could see down to the white sands underneath. She moved closer to where she could stand since Legolas was less inclined to get his hair wet.

"Was I wrong?" She asked as he finally made his way to her, "A perfect idea to cool off."

"And when we return to shore all wet?" He asked, giving her a look of feigned disapproval that covered his disbelief of what he just did.

"We can dry in the sun," she returned with a smug smile of accomplishment as he wrapped his hands around her waist, "And there are towels we can use, and robes we can change into if need be." She clasped her hands around his neck, enjoying the feeling of the waves gently moving through their embrace.

"Our parents will not be pleased," Legolas reminded her as he pulled her closer to him, though his eyes diverted to her lips as he longed to kiss them.

She bit her bottom lip, suddenly feeling like a misbehaving child; parental concern still a strange consideration in her life. "Am I in trouble?"

"Maybe," he inched his lips closer to hers and she met them, providing the kiss they both desired since being reunited earlier that morning. It was as if the ocean provided them the privacy needed to be intimate. They would linger in the ocean a little longer before slowly wandering back to shore; feeling refreshed despite looking disheveled.

Their parents had decided to move to the outer terraces to enjoy the sea breeze and the view, though they were not expecting to see their children frolicking on the sands below. Upon reaching dry sand, Vezely's skirt tangled underneath her feet causing her to tumble forward. Holding onto Legolas, she would pull him down on top of her.

"That is the last time I go swimming in a dress," she laughed looking upon a slightly bewildered Legolas who lay on top of her.

"And here I thought you could not be less graceful," he teased; the remark leading to her abruptly repositioning herself on top of him in a wrestling tactic she culled from Variag elite fighters.

"I have the grace of a warrior," she remarked proudly, smirking down at him, her bare wet knees digging into the sands as her thighs straddled his hips between them.

"...Your daughter is not a demure one, is she?" Legolas's mother remarked to Rovian as they watched the couple's indecent behavior escalate.

Rovian swallowed what spit she had in her mouth, knowing Vezely was certainly not demure or innocent. She smiled politely and a second later suggested a change in scenery, "Perhaps we should go to the northern plateau. There are willow trees which can provide shade."

Eluréd crossed his arms, mimicking a posture befitting the son of Dior. He found himself less bothered by the couple's behavior. "They will note our presence soon enough. Besides it is nice to reflect back on our youth, and when were also eager to be married. And perhaps, it reminds us to look forward to grandchildren."

"Husband!" Rovian spat in a hushed whisper for she deemed what he just implied improper.

"He is right, Lady Rovian," Legolas's mother returned unabashed, turning her attention, "Grandchildren have indeed been on my mind. The joy they would bring to all of us..."

Thranduil disliked watching his son succumb to the wiles of this Elf, but not because of impropriety as was the discomfort of the others. Indeed, she was not demure but assured in the way she moved on top of him like that, as if she was used to controlling men. The thought bothered him slightly as he remembered she was raised by men. Her Mannish manners also came with experiences untold, he thought darkly.

"...I think we have garnered an audience," Vezely spoke covertly to her partner below her, flicking her gaze momentarily in the direction of the upper terraces. Legolas immediately halted his roaming hands which had found their way onto her bare thighs underneath her pushed up skirt.

With their clothes sticking to their bodies and sand sticking to their clothes, the couple headed back up the steps, knowing they had to pass through their parents in order to reach the chateau where they could towel off.

Vezely acted as if nothing was out of place or unusual, despite being under the cold gaze of her soon-to-be father-in-law. She ignored him and asked her mother casually, "You mentioned there were towels in the?"

"In the south wing of the green room," Rovian promptly answered.

Vezely nodded once showing her remembrance and gratitude, afterwards adding pleasantly as she continued walking passed them, "It is a nice day to go swimming."

Rovian shook her head disapprovingly; calling after them, "And take the south entrance so you do not track water and sand on the rugs!"

Legolas did not fully meet the gaze of his parents. He was embarrassed that they witnessed their risky behavior - behavior that Elves deemed only appropriate behind closed doors and with their spouse. Though he did notice Vezely's confidence as she strutted in front of him; she held conviction in her prior manner. Legolas was soon to be her husband and lover; she felt no shame by showing their physicality.

..."We should be more discrete," Legolas told her as he took the outstretched towel from her hand.

"Probably," she responded unconcerned while using one of the towel's corners to rub her ear dry; then considering nonchalantly, "Though soon enough our home will provide us all the discreteness we need."

Heat rushed to Legolas's cheeks and he turned while wrapping the towel around his shoulders, hoping to hide his blush. "We should go to check on its progress," he returned, slightly changing the topic to the building of their home itself, "Tomorrow morning perhaps?"

* * *

Glorfindel sat in a high backed chair penning a letter while a High Elf of dark-hair braided with strands of gold and of tall, slender form cloaked in a sapphire blue robe browsed the guest list for the upcoming banquet.

"Your guest list is flawed my dear friend. You invite members of the esteemed Fellowship along with one of Sauron's former servants. You are not normally so careless," Ecthelion remarked in amusement, taking a seat at the table across from him and reaching for the glass of wine he just poured.

"Careless I am not," Glorfindel returned dryly, not removing his eyes from his writing and not being in the mood for his companion's playful mocking. "And former is a formative word. Besides, she is engaged to the Fellowship member you speak of."

"Engaged?" he scoffed, finding absurdity in the pairing. "I am assuming it is not to the _Naugrim_ ," he joked referring to Gimli.

Glorfindel provided him a brief look of consternation before returning to his letter.

"Now why is this connection not better known?" Ecthelion queried a moment later, again trying to gain the attention of his partner.

"Because here she is known only as the granddaughter of Dior, not as Sauron's former servant," Glorfindel finally engaged the eyes of his equally revered friend. He had told Ecthelion a lot about his tales across the sea, including his time in Rhun among the distant Secondborn, through which he learned Vezely's story.

"They are one in the same then," Ecthelion pondered further, rubbing his chin. "I should very much like to meet this Vezely. Especially since her deeds make the sons of F _ëanor_ look somewhat tame..." The details of this corrupted Elf turned Easterling intrigued him.

* * *

Vezely had not expected the invitation when she received it; a letter immaculately penned in gold ink and sealed with gold wax that bore the stamped crest of the House of the Golden Flower. It was not that she left Glorfindel on completely unfriendly terms after encountering him in the forests of Dorwinion. Though granted, he did witness her at one of the lowest points of her campaign in Rhun. Plague had decimated a third of her army, and her second in command, Samsara, would meet her end in that land of hidden Elves. And through those Elves and their knowledge of Vezely of the Balchoth, "the tyrant" as they called her, Glorfindel had probably learned more than any other of the evil deeds she once wrought under the blessings of Sauron.

Her grandmother was shocked upon hearing about her invite as well, for among the Noldor, Glorfindel's name rang loudest for his great deeds across the ages. _"You should wear grey, yes grey,"_ she confirmed assuredly taking over her preparation for the short trip. _"The Noldor appreciate their House colors and being of the House of Dior, descendent of Eru Thingol, grey is our color."_ The expectation placed upon her was to represent her patriarchal line; still a strange concept for her to grasp but considering the Noldor's paucity of knowledge about her past, her house would be how she was hailed and recognized.

Glorfindel's intent was to invite Gimli and Legolas, along with Thranduil and his wife, to his home where he would hold a small celebration in their honor, since he was unable to greet them when they arrived. He lived in the city of Tirion upon Túna, where the majority of the High Elves of the Noldor resided. There one would find Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn, as well as Lord Elrond and his wife, Lady Celebrian. It was a city of white stone built upward, an abundance of fountains and waterways dug throughout, and of "High Elf" refinement, or at least that is how Vezely's grandmother described it. _"The Noldor are different from the Teleri,"_ Nimloth explained to her, _"Their customs, their expectations, you would do well to leave your trousers at home."_

Dior mocked his wife's worry, _"She is going in the company of the esteemed Fellowship, my dear. Attention will be on them."_

 _"But she is engaged to a member of the Fellowship. They will take notice if she is wearing a sword!"_ Nimloth exclaimed back, quickly deciding to pack her granddaughter's wardrobe for her. Vezely found these concerns ridiculous, though she was also content not to be overtly noticed at a celebration in Legolas and Gimli's honor, especially if the Noldor were as her grandmother described. Her trousers and sword, however, would not stay at home.

She traveled with Legolas's escort. Despite their unmarried status, it was deemed acceptable since his parents were also traveling with them. Gimli was provided a covered carriage to ride in, as he had become too frail to ride a horse. He would be staying on in Tirion at the residence of Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn for the week and returning with their company to attend the wedding. Despite his growing weariness, he looked forward to seeing more of these lands and to bask in the glow of Lady Galadriel once more.

Legolas's lifelong friend, Thalion, was also among the travelers, his hopes high to dote on Lady Adele while in Tirion. He maintained a polite distance from Vezely, not wanting to provoke any arguments for the sake of his friendship. Vezely had noted the familiar face on one of her many visits to Lord Oropher's colony - both Thalion's and that of his brother, the former Woodland guard whom her small company of Balchoth had a hand in slaying several centuries prior. _Polite distance._ She also observed it with both of them.

The group traveled over several mountain passes of the Pelori, finally crossing over a great bridge into the outer city and crossing several more causeways after, since the city was built up and around extensive waterways. Glorfindel lived in an impressive palace upon the eastern side; the white gates of which led into a courtyard with an immense water fountain built before the entrance.

Having left their horses with servants at the stables, they awaited introduction in front of the fountain. Vezely stood off to the side of the Mirkwood royals, though still in front of the rest of the company. Legolas was aside Gimli, aiding his old friend in his steps as his legs had grown stiff from sitting in the carriage on the ride there.

There was always a hierarchy to greetings and Glorfindel greeted Thranduil and his wife first before Legolas and Gimli.

An Elf stood aside Glorfindel, one of exceptional height and beauty, though it seemed that the Noldor were commonly marked by these attributes. Dark hair, sparkling ice blue eyes, complemented by blue robes. His eyes shifted a few times over to Vezely, making her suspicious of his interest or whether it was simply her short hair, trousers, and sword that garnered attention. She did not take her grandmother's advice and ride there in a gown.

He was introduced as Lord Ecthelion of the House of the Fountain. The name sounded vaguely familiar to Vezely but she could not immediately place it. She had yet to read about Gondolin and its fall in the annals of First Age history that Legolas collected for her. Although once read she would know he had also slayed a Balrog as Glorfindel had in the same battle.

To her surprise, Glorfindel greeted her after Gimli, moving his way over to where she stood - her proud posture making it appear as if she was still a general with a standing army nearby.

"Lord Glorfindel," she ducked her head and placed a fist to her chest, greeting him as an Easterling would greet an equally ranked officer. "Gratitude for the invitation."

"I am glad you came. I desired to replace the image I had of you when last we met," he replied sincerely.

She half-smiled, saying solidly, "In Dorwinion. A meeting not easily forgotten by me or my troops."

He nodded, knowing why it was of worthy remembrance. "But now you appear without the weight of thousands on your shoulders and with a new start to life. I look forward to celebrating the union of you and Lord Legolas next week," he looked towards Legolas, who watched proudly as such a respected member of Valinorian society personally greeted her in front of his father and their escort, deeming her worthy enough to do so.

They would be led to their guest rooms to refresh themselves for the party. Glorfindel had invited several guests from his various circles of acquaintances; all were of some importance in Noldorin high society and desired an audience with the famed Fellowship members.

Upon entering the main hall, Gimli chuckled to Vezely who stood aside him, "And here I thought Elves couldn't get any fancier..."

Vezely began to realize what her grandmother meant by the Noldor being different than the Teleri in terms of refinement. These High Elves were dressed in silks of saturated hues and fully decked in intricate jewels. She had worn what appeared as a grey gown; a fancier garment she had commissioned from the same seamstress who designed her wedding gown. However, it was really a long surcoat designed to be worn over trousers and a blouse. And upon her head was her grandmother's treasured sapphire and pearl circlet she had worn once before. Despite this, she still felt underdressed compared to the company.

 _"...It appears your potential dueling partner has arrived,"_ Prince Arakano's riding companion, Lord Glandur, jokingly whispered to Arakano upon seeing the same elleth they met on the beaches in front of Dior's residence several mornings prior. Both Noldorin lords were friends of Glorfindel and were invited to the celebration. _"So she does not wear trousers or a sword all the time,"_ Glandur added amused by her changed appearance.

Noting their gazes during his approach, Lord Ecthelion interrupted his two friends, _"Have you been introduced to Lady Vezely of the House of Dior?"_

 _"Aye, I have. Lord Dior formally introduced us prior the return of her betrothed,"_ Arakano responded seemingly unimpressed after a polite nod of welcome, and then inquiring, _"She is of a different nature than other Sindarin or even Silvan Elves I have met. My friend, you no doubt have information acquired from our dear host on the lands across the sea. Please tell us, is it customary now for elleths to dress and act in such a manner as we have witnessed...?"_ He explained what he meant before looking again upon the elleth in question. Arakano knew Ecthelion was close to Glorfindel and believed he had acquired more information on the estranged Elven colonies still settled across the sea.

Ecthelion chuckled at their ignorance. He remained surprised that no Noldor and only a few Sindar knew her true identity. Being glib and having already downed a few glasses of wine, he not only divulged his amusement by their confusion, but decided to aid in curing it, _"My dear friends, you are without the key to unraveling what you deem mysterious of the elleth in question. She is neither Sindar nor Silvan of culture, but could more properly be deemed of the distant Secondborn. I was surprised upon hearing that so few knew of her role in the Great Wars or even stop to reason why she is well acquainted with the Fellowship and the Istari, or with Glorfindel for that matter. I suppose many believe she simply sailed over instead of being condemned to the punishment of waiting in Mandos's Halls...To think one aligned with Sauron would fight alongside those we now honor so highly, and become engaged to our newest star, it is truly a marvel. Though Prince Arakano, your family knows a thing or two about shady alliances,"_ he took a jab at Arakano's family relations, which was a habitual tease between friends. But rather than arouse amusement as intended, Ecthelion had made the two lords so confused neither responded.

 _"You truly speak in jest, my friend,"_ Arakano finally spoke in disbelief, still finding Ecthelion's words unintelligible.

 _"I surely do not,"_ Ecthelion took another drink of wine, _"Even I cannot create such a tale as hers which will undoubtedly go unwritten..."_

...Vezely let out a small growl when realizing these two were also at the banquet. At this moment, the couple was given a short respite from introductions. She had remained at Legolas's side, even though she thought it better for him to be greeted solo. Legolas desired otherwise, having to again remind her that this was not Minas Tirith, that she had no need for concern over Valinorean opinions, and that as his soon-to-be wife he preferred to be seen aside her.

"Is there a problem?" Legolas asked quietly after hearing her low grumble.

"I do not like that Elf or his companion," she remarked through gritted teeth, drinking more wine after as if it would quell her anger.

"Are those the two riders you mentioned?" Legolas questioned uncertain, his eyes narrowing upon them. He remembered Vezely spoke briefly of a confrontation she had on the beach with two Noldorin lords several mornings prior. She had inquired whether he knew if all Noldor had a penchant for showing off and then backing down from a challenge once made.

"They are them," Vez replied solidly, diverting her gaze back to his.

"Unfortunately they appear friends with our host. We will try to remain civil," Legolas nudged her side and gave her an encouraging smile before they moved on to mingle with more guests desiring an audience.

Legolas was not enjoying the constant flow of flattery he was receiving, as all made sure to compliment him on his accomplishments. The only thing that made the party bearable was having Vezely by his side, even if she remained quiet unless spoken to directly in Sindarin. The Noldor preferred to use their language. Legolas spoke Noldorin, as was expected of a prince to know the language of lore, but he always attempted to maneuver the conversation back to Sindarin for the sake of his partner.

Gimli called Vezely over at one point to hear him reiterate to a group of eager guests the tale of Helm's Deep. The aging dwarf desired her assurance that he told the events correctly, seeing as he was becoming forgetful. It was the first time she left Legolas's side that evening, presenting an opportunity for Lord Arakano and Lord Glandur to greet him alone, for their new information intrigued them so.

 _"...Your heroism precedes you, Lord Legolas, for all here know the tales of the son of Thranduil in the Great War,"_ Arakano spoke politely to Legolas in Noldorin with his chin held high, _"It is said that your archery skills are on par with Beleg Cúthalion."_ Legolas continued to receive this comparison to the greatest First Age archer and it always caused him to duck his head in humble unworthiness. _"And your skill with the short knives are of equal repute. Perhaps these lofty claims can be proven through a demonstration between us, for I am also skilled with these weapons."_

This was not the first time Legolas was challenged to a duel. It seemed Elvish warriors-that-were yet desired to prove their might between each other in friendly sparring matches. As each time before, he politely declined the offer, _"I do not desire to prove my skills, for they were used to end a war and here there are no wars to wage."_

 _"They say you are modest too,"_ Arakano praised with a smug half-smile, _"It is surprising you would marry one of such repute."_

 _"Pardon?"_ Legolas believed he translated incorrectly.

 _"Your betrothed. Now I know why her manner is so off-putting,"_ he raised an eyebrow cockily.

Despite not knowing or caring what Arakano knew of Vezely, Legolas warned him, " _I would ask you be mindful of your words Lord Arakano. I do take kindly to anyone speaking of my lady as off-putting."_

 _"Lady, yes, one raised by eastern dogs to become a Maiar's pet,"_ he countered with a smirk. _"It is uncanny that she is of the House of Dior, and one I deemed eligible for a political partnership. You have saved me from making that distasteful mistake my lord."_

 _"Lord Arakano,"_ Legolas interrupted sternly, trying to quell his desire to punch the ellon in the face. Instead, Legolas maneuvered a different route. _"You desired a demonstration, undoubtedly to prove your own prowess. I accept..."_

"...As I was saying, hmm," Gimli inevitably lost his train of thought. He was about to boast of a key moment in the battle: when he and Aragorn jumped to the front gates and bought the king some time before they were broken into. "Where was I there, Vez?" He implored her help.

"You jumped into the thick of them and cut down at least fifteen with your axe. He is not to be reckoned with, especially if he has an axe in his hand," she confirmed proudly, squeezing his shoulder in support.

"You speak as if you were there my lady," one Elf stated amused in Westron. The Noldor were finding it charming to use the language of the Secondborn in the presence of the dwarf.

"Because she was," Lord Ecthelion smoothly swung into the middle of the guests, hoping to introduce himself to the elleth when she was sans her noble partner. "Lady Vezely is a warrior of the highest order. A general of legions. There are few Elves that hold the title of general and no elleth among those esteemed few."

Vezely eyed the tall ellon darkly, considering her options in stalling his speech.

"A general of legions?" One of the guests quickly scoffed at Ecthelion, afterwards going on to politely scold the revered High Elf who was also known for his flamboyance. "Lord Ecthelion, please slow down on your wine. It is too early to tease the host's guests as such. And she will now undoubtedly return to Lord Dior and Lady Nimloth and speak of the Noldor as crass and unkind at their banquets."

Rather than address the guest questioning him, Lord Ecthelion gazed upon Vezely with sincerity in his eyes, "I tease not. I but confirm your query and Lord Gimli could do so also."

Gimli noted that Vezely's concentrated stare had not lightened and responded carefully, omitting the mention of her as a general. "Aye, she was there with sword in hand."

"Then why is Lady Vezely not spoken of in such tales, for surely the granddaughter of Dior would be noted for being a warrior," they laughed, still disbelieving their words.

"Indeed," Vezely remarked dryly, her eyes now narrowing on Ecthelion. "I but played a minor role. If you will excuse us." She grabbed the High Elf's forearm tightly and yanked him to walk aside her.

Taken unawares by her aggressive handling, Ecthelion submitted and followed, trying to act natural in his steps.

"Listen," she warned him steadily through gritted teeth after gaining enough distance from the group, "I do not know your intent, but if by chance you desire to defame my partner by making my past widely known..."

Ecthelion quickly raised his hands up yielding her threat, "I do not seek defamation of Lord Legolas, my lady. It is simply your story. It is more intriguing than many I have heard in ages from the lands afar."

"You are an odd one then," Vezely responded with some disgust that came with knowing she provided an Elf lord intrigue. A cheap amusement to his overly long life, she thought, and not dissimilar to Gimli who had continued spinning his tale nearby.

"Lord Ecthelion. Lady Vezely," Glorfindel interrupted them hastily, noting the tension from afar and fearing his companion had exchanged poorly chosen words with the estranged and easily tempered elleth.

Ecthelion knew why Glorfindel interrupted, and calmly quelled his fears, "We were just discussing my interest in her story. Which I am gathering need not be shared, for it could, what was it you said? _Defame_ Lord Legolas," he stated amused, slightly mocking her stated concern.

Vezely's eyes again narrowed on him as her temper simmered. He was close to being hit, she thought annoyed.

"He has heard of you, through my own tales," Glorfindel tried to move her steely gaze away from him, "And it is also true, Ecthelion that since the Noldor do not know her tale, it could possibly provoke ill rumors to spread, which I would not have..."

Glorfindel's reasoning helped to calm his friend's desire to spread her story, but while this was occurring another incident had been planned - one that involved a dueling match between Prince Arakano and Lord Legolas.

One of Glorfindel 's kin interrupted the three of them, asking that he set parameters for the match, leading the host to excuse himself to attend to it.

Vezely sneered at Ecthelion before leaving to find out from Legolas what this was all about. Returning to her partner's side, she could tell from his stern demeanor that remnants of a prior disagreement still lingered.

"What is going on?" she asked him quietly.

"It is good you wore your trousers," he responded, knowing what her elaborate surcoat hid underneath.

"What? Why?" she returned confused.

"That duel you desired, well, I have arranged it for you," he spoke in a tone that wavered between uncertainty and justification by what he planned to do.

"What?"


	60. Dueling Etiquette

If one asked a Noldor, a friendly duel between noble lords was the best way to end an evening banquet. The guests excitedly swayed in their long gowns to one of the palace's open courtyards. Their sparkling wine-filled crystal flutes were still in hand and their tongues were wagging about how they would be the first Valinoreans to see the young hero in action; bragging rights they would surely make use of in at another social gathering _._ This would make Glorfindel's celebration worth long remembrance.

 _"Does Prince Arakano stand a chance?_ One excited guest questioned another on the way, _"Of course!"_ Others would exclaim, _"He is the son of Fingolfin! Also distinguished in war! A Noldor of great valor!"_

Arakano was distinguished for bravery in the Battle of the Lammoth in First Age Beleriand. All could recall the tale of how he singlehandedly hewed a path through foes to slay the great captain of Orcs. It was in this war he was slain, but memory of his unyielding bravery yet preceded him. And considering his lineage and the strength of the Noldor in general, he was not to be underestimated.

Glorfindel was surprised upon first hearing of the duel, though he knew Arakano's enjoyment in them. The prince had dueled with mostly all the Noldorin lords, excluding himself. Not many desired to go against him, believing they would lose. While Glorfindel knew Legolas's personality less than he knew Arakano's, he assumed Arakano had goaded the Sindar into it. Legolas was not boastful about his recent fame, and similar to Glorfindel during Gondolin's fall, he saw his heroic deeds more as situational.

The guests intuitively lined up around the courtyard, having all done this before at Glorfindel's abode for an evening duel. Vezely stood motionless aside Legolas on the one end, her eyes concentrated on the ground's mosaic blue and yellow tiles, and her breath deepening in wary anticipation as the guests settled into place for the approaching spectacle. She was uncertain if this was the best stage to play out her dark desires against the Noldor prince; to reveal that side of her which only a select few in Valinor, and even fewer in Tirion knew about.

Thranduil and his wife approached the young couple, but Vezely did not acknowledge them, nor did Legolas lighten his stern demeanor. He stood with his arms crossed, as anger yet writhed in him from his prior conversation; his mind was repeating the lord's foul words concerning his soon-to-be wife and their relationship.

Thranduil's aloof gaze shifted from Vezely to his son. He did not know the parameters of what prompted him to accept a dueling match with the Noldor prince, but he suspected she was involved. "This is unlike you," he spoke plainly. "What are your intentions with partaking in such a frivolous display?"

"You will see," he provided his father only a brief glance before returning them to his opponent on the other side of the courtyard, who had begun removing his outer robes in preparation for the fight.

"You have not been this eager to prove yourself since your youth," his mother whispered close by his side, "The ellon must have offered offense." Legolas took a deep breath through his nostrils and slightly shrugged his shoulders. His mother intuitively knew through these movements that this was the case.

With Ecthelion close by his side, Glorfindel entered the courtyard, much to the delight of the waiting spectators. "My revered guests..." he announced the match, first introducing Lord Arakano and reminding the crowd of his valor in the First Age, before doing the same honor for Legolas. The blonde Sindar, however, had not removed his surcoat nor had weapons brought to him as Lord Arakano had already done.

"Lord Legolas, are you in need of weaponry?" Glorfindel inquired, wondering if he could provide him one of his own swords.

Forgoing an answer, Legolas instead uncrossed his arms and calmly stepped into the center of the courtyard. "That will not be necessary, my lord, but if I may address the crowd?" Glorfindel stepped aside giving him the stage. "My lords and ladies of Tirion," he addressed the eager guests politely in Sindarin, desiring for Vezely to understand his speech. "Lord Arakano is not the first to challenge me since my arrival in Valinor, but he is the first that I felt compelled to accept. For it is true of both our cultures to defend the honor of those we love when they are provided insult. But it is also true of those of the Woodland Realm to allow the one who was insulted to defend themselves if possible. That is why I will not fight Lord Arakano, but my betrothed will."

With turning of heads, guests discovered their neighbor's faces held similar stares of disbelief and confusion.

Hiding his obvious discomfort by the sudden shift in dueling partners and embarrassment for being called out on his prior rudeness, Lord Arakano tried to vindicate himself, "That was not the intention of my challenge, my lord, nor the words accompanying it. I meant no offense to you or your lady."

Having followed Legolas's request, Thalion returned with Vezely's sword in his hand, but he stalled his steps upon hearing this announcement of a change in dueling participants. Noting his inaction, Gimli went to grab it from him, "Give it here lad." The dwarf had picked up enough Sindarin over the years to figure out the situation. He brought the Rhunic sword to Vezely, who had begun unclasping and removing her grey gown to reveal her more customary Easterling-style trousers and tunic underneath.

Arakano's attention turned to her and the dwarf, now proudly holding the foreign blade aside her. He added steadily, "Dueling with Lady Vezely would not be appropriate, considering."

"Considering what?" Legolas questioned sternly, regaining his attention. "You would back down from an opportunity to prove your worth against an equally skilled opponent?"

Arakano held his head high, trying to reason out of it, "I would not fight a lady."

"I will not repeat the titles you gave her just prior, but it was not lady," Legolas tilted his chin up, making sure to hold him accountable.

Arakano swallowed and ducked his head briefly before providing his reasoning, "Apologies to you and to Lady Vezely. My words were ill chosen in order to force your acceptance to my challenge. Still, such a match, my lord, would be unbalanced."

"Do not now play unawares," Legolas cautioned him, "You know who Vezely is and you are afraid you will lose."

Now realizing that sharing Vezely's past perhaps provided the catalyst for this kerfuffle, Ecthelion intervened hoping to spare the honor of his friend, who was losing dignity for having defamed another's partner. He stepped next to Arakano and addressed the crowd, "I actually think this would be a balanced challenge and one worthy to see. We Noldor have heard that Silvan populations employ females in their guard, a progressive measure Lord Thranduil could surely tell us more about," he nodded to the stoic Elvenking, who was pretending this incident was not happening. "And Lady Vezely not only fought in the great wars, but did so alongside the Fellowship," he purposefully forewent speaking of her other deeds. He turned towards Arakano, speaking optimistically, "You desired a duel, my friend, and our guests have already been mired in anticipation of one. Lady Vezely also appears willing to defend herself against your ill-chosen words to prod Lord Legolas into a match. Why not sate all fronts and duel?"

With all awaiting Arakano's answer, Lord Glorfindel quietly stepped aside Legolas, whispering concerned, "Perhaps it is better to settle this disagreement inside over a glass of wine? Is not discretion preferable for both of you?" While not desiring to confess it, he was more wary of the rebuke he could face from the Valar if Vezely did not control herself.

Vezely had already removed her grandmother's treasured circlet from her head and traded it for the sword in Gimli's hand, unsheathing it shortly after. She was glad she had sharpened it recently. She gauged that Glorfindel was attempting to persuade Legolas to stop the match. Perhaps she would have allowed it before hearing Arakano chauvinistically excuse his defamation of her. Her dislike for the prince overtook her thoughts of discretion.

"There is a saying in my culture," she marched into the courtyard and addressed the crowd as she would her troops, purposefully interrupting Glofindel's clandestine chat. Her eyes praised the glint of her blade as she proudly spoke the harsh Rhunic phrase before translating into Sindarin, "... _To deny a challenge is to make one unworthy of challenging another._ I have already offered you challenge before, Lord Arakano, and your friend, Lord Glandur, over there," she pointed the tip of the blade at his riding partner who looked equally uncomfortable on the sidelines. She turned her attention back to the prince, finding dark amusement in his public display of discomfort."Do you now think I was joking?"

Arakano narrowed his eyes and straightened his posture, "No, I do not." Days prior on the beaches in front of Lord Dior's chateau, he thought it was simply a quirk of her Silvan heritage - as many of the Noldor thought of the warrior elleths who were raised in the Sindarin-ruled woodlands beyond the sea. Little did he know she was further estranged and perhaps, he dared to speculate, even better skilled at arms than himself. Maintaining an aura of confidence, he resolutely accepted Ecthelion's offer, "Very well, my lord. I will duel Lady Vezely, but I will not be held responsible for a bruised bride a week from now."

"Very good," Ecthelion nodded pleased, clapping his hands together, "It is settled then. We have a match!"

The guests were unsure whether to be excited or wary of watching the son of Fingolfin duel a young elleth of lowly Silvan, Sinda, and Edain heritage, despite her ancestry including a Maiar. Most suspected it was unbalanced and that Vezely did not stand a chance. Yet they could not deny an interest in seeing it play out.

Glorfindel had half a mind to stop the duel before it started, but intervening would have been uncharacteristic and potentially more damaging to the honor of his friend who needed to regain face. "No swords," Glorfindel instead declared, thinking it was the least he could do to prevent the worst. Then addressing Vezely personally, "I will not have blood spilt this night."

"There are other ways to spill blood," Vezely replied to him steadily, gaining admonishment through his returned gaze.

"We are not uncivilized elflings, my lord," Arakano scoffed, ignoring Vezely's retort, "At least allow some weaponry to display our skill. Even if they are training weapons."

Glorfindel gritted his teeth, "Fine, but I do not want to send either of you to the infirmary. Keep the match clean."

Vezely regretfully sheathed her Rhunic blade as Legolas approached her to take it from her hands. "I feel as a cadet in training," she told him annoyed while reluctantly handing it over.

But Legolas only provided her words of encouragement, "Take him down either way."

"It will be my pleasure," she smirked, exchanging her gratefulness in having his support in this.

He went to stand in-between Gimli and his father who looked to be nursing a headache as he pinched his forehead with the ring finger and thumb of his one hand. "You should not have instigated this," he spoke quietly to his son after he stood next to him.

"And Lord Arakano should not have spoken as he did," Legolas replied back crossing his arms, yet feeling justified in setting up the match.

"Now this is more of my type of celebration," Gimli exclaimed at Legolas's side, pleased the monotony of a stuffy evening had shifted. Then adding to him jokingly, "Vez does know duels here do not end in killing ones opponent?"

Arakano provided the crowd a twirl of his wooden sword, tapping it against the square wooden shield he also held. He exuded confidence as he strut to the center of the courtyard. The Noldor prince had dueled plenty of times. Many considered him a showman of sorts, as he liked to display his fancier sword skills in order to make matches a little more entertaining. Little did he know that Vezely had also dueled plenty of times; but she did not deal in showmanship, but death.

She held her sword at her side and the shield on her other arm. The clunky piece of round wood they gave her was not a desired or useful accompaniment, but she would appease the host with its use for now. She slowly swayed to the tall ellon's left, her eyes fierce upon his, watching and waiting for him to strike.

Arakano moved to her right, coming closer to her as he did. _She is young_ , he mentally assured himself. _She cannot be as skilled as I with a blade,_ he confirmed further. _This will be an easy match._

He drove the sword at her, hitting her shield with force, though not knocking her back as he expected to.

Vezely wanted him to go first; to observe his footing, the way he thrust his blade, and how he readjusted his gait after a blow. She was learning how these High Elves fought and noted his footing and form was the same as her grandfather's. Her inaction after his blow, however, distressed him and he attempted again to engage her, to bring her blade to his by maneuvering around her shield.

She instead moved the opposite way, having him throw his wooden blade at air. While he recovered, her shield had already struck the center of his back, causing him to jolt forward. He quickly recovered and re-centered himself, now further displeased that he was hit first and in am impolite way. He countered, swinging his blade and making contact with hers.

Arakano continued to swing. He was quick and efficient in his marks, and she stepped backward with each swing, deflecting each blow with her own blade until she hit the end of the courtyard. Guests queried whether they should move from her path, but instead she used her shield with purpose, inviting his sword into a provided opening and pivoting away. It effectively stole the sword from his hand. She then followed by hitting him behind the knee with her own blade, knocking his foot and felling him onto his back.

She walked around him and back into the center of the courtyard. "Get up," she ordered him as if he was one of her soldiers. "We are just getting started."

Arakano tried to maintain some dignity as he stood up and reached for his fallen sword, keeping a stern demeanor on his face. It was clear he underestimated her, though he would play otherwise. "Alright. But I will no longer treat you as a young elleth in need of softer tactics."

"Goodie," she remarked unimpressed, rolling her eyes as she turned and readjusted her shield.

She would provide him another round of engagement in what she gauged was proper dueling etiquette, as learned from her grandfather. During the next respite, she decided to change it up and discarded her shield.

"You discard your defenses?" Arakano asked confused by the move, and he wondered if she was forfeiting the match.

"I am no longer on the defense," she responded with a smirk while bringing her other hand to the sword's hilt and adjusting her stance radically from before. This time she would engage him.

It was Arakano's turn to step backward, attempting to block and counter her sword as it rained down on him and his shield. Soon enough he would find her elbow to his face and her foot to his chest making him lose his footing. As expected, it was enough to temper Arakano and he retaliated furiously. It was amid his hasty lunges towards her that she displayed fighting skill not of the Eldar.

What happened next distressed many spectators. Amid her assault, she purposefully left no room for Arakano's recovery or any maintenance of his dignity. Vezely knocked Arakano's shield from his hands with a side kick, afterwards engaging him with sword and foot. A knee to his stomach and an elbow to his face eventually brought him to his knees and she retrieved his fallen board by kicking it back up into her hands. She used it as a weapon against the side of his face, cracking it into two. "Do not discard your defenses," she mocked after the blow; an amused smirk showing her enjoyment of the deed. She should have stopped there, many thought, as Arakano deserved time to recover or at least forfeit the match if he deemed his injuries grave enough. But instead, with sinister purpose, Vezely kicked his side hard enough to roll him over twice.

Many ellith in the crowd placed hands over their mouths to muffle their gasps, while the ellyn shifted in discomfort, especially when Vezely jumped on top of him, as an animal on top of prey, jamming the tip wooden sword against his throat.

"You do not fight with honor," he managed to breathe out, noting cracked teeth among the iron taste of blood in his mouth.

"Not your type of honor," she responded assuredly, raising her wooden sword in what appeared to be precursor to a final strike against his head with its hilt.

"Enough!" Glorfindel finally called out, hastily coming towards them, thinking he needed to stop her. "Lady Vezely is the match winner!"

She stayed her hand, giving Arakano a look of disgust before rising from the ground, her foot not leaving his chest without another push downward to remind him of his place.

"That was as I expected," Gimli mumbled amid the stunned silence that had crept through the courtyard. "Efficient and bloody."

Vezely had a cool, collective demeanor that barely hid the sinister pleasure the fight had given her. She stopped aside Glorfindel momentarily, "You should have allowed us our swords. I would have at least stayed my blade from his flesh," knowing the training swords and wooden shields provided an avenue to inflict more injury than sword and fist alone.

Ecthelion perhaps was more impressed than distressed by the spectacle. "Indeed, we should not underestimate our distant kin and the hardness the Third Age has helped foster in them. I say well done, Lady Vezely, well done," he began clapping, hoping to inspire others out of their disbelief in what they deemed as uncharacteristically brutal for an elleth or ellon of any line.

Vezely ignored the crowd, few of which followed Ecthelion in clapping. She instead looked over to Legolas, who provided her a small nod of approval, causing the rage the fight imparted in her to flutter away. She threw the blood splattered wooden sword on the courtyard's tiles and moved before him. He would take a handkerchief from him outer robe's pocket and dab off the splatters of blood from her cheek. Afterwards he lovingly fixed her hair; untangling a few strain and smoothing down her sides before placing her grandmother's treasured circlet back upon it. His hands would move down to her forearms and remained there as they silently conversed through their eyes, forgetting that all were staring at them.

"I especially liked that maneuver with the shield," Gimli remarked next to them, stroking his white beard, "A dwarf respects ingenuity," causing her to smirk.

Witnessing the couple's affection and seeing Legolas's overt approval of his betrothed regardless of her crude behavior reordered the crowd's thinking of what they just witnessed. _Those from the Woodland Realm are tough as steel_ , many thought as they filtered back into the grand hall. _Arakano deserved that, considering his rudeness_ , some chatted to their partners. _The House of Dior is not just beauty it seems_ , some others remarked.

"You are yet reckless," Glorfindel declared admonishingly after all but a few had returned inside and after Arakano had been taken to have his wounds mended.

"And uncouth," Thranduil remarked under his breath nearby, knowing he would be fielding questions about his gender integrated guard and his 'interesting' future daughter-in-law the rest of the evening.

"Do duels here not end with one on the ground?"Vezely defended her actions forthrightly, "If not, what is the point of a back and forth tap and touch? One cannot improve unless you are continuously reacquainted with the pain of losing."

Ecthelion responded cheerfully, "This is true. We Noldor simply have become unaccustomed to witnessing brute force let alone appreciating its learning potential. And Lord Arakano has certainly learned his lesson." He cupped a hand on Glorfindel's shoulder, "You have no need to worry my dear friend, your celebration is yet proper, and memorable to boot."

"Do not blame Vezely, my lord," Legolas added politely, "I would not have been as kind myself if I had dueled in her place."

Glorfindel would move past his disgruntlement, believing the situation could have been worse - Arakano yet lived and no Valar had appeared yet to chastise him. He returned with Ecthelion to his hosting duties, taking Gimli along as well. They all realized the family needed some time alone.

Legolas's mother's hands were clasped in front of her and fidgeting slightly, visibly showing her discomfort as she tried to engage her future daughter-in-law. "I am grateful you are not hurt," she told her in lieu of other thoughts.

"Mother, I would not have set the match if I thought she could not handle it," Legolas confirmed carefully.

"Understood. But just promise me you will not set any more matches before the wedding," she returned quickly.

"Promise," he warmly smiled, knowing she was trying hard to be considerate.

Thranduil was less concerned about their feelings, but his wife's tug on his arm forbade him from speaking his thoughts and she purposefully led him back to the party. Legolas gathered he would hear more from him later.

Left alone, Legolas mused about what he gauged as a minor accomplishment of the evening, "Now we are both known as warriors." He took her hand and intertwined their fingers, bringing the back of it to his lips. "They will speak of our love being kindled in the great war and speculate of our children becoming better warriors than ourselves..."

"Children?" Vezely scoffed, mocking him after, "You are getting ahead of yourself."

Legolas realized his speech accidentally wandered to a subject they had yet to discuss. He shifted noticeably embarrassed, but he managed to speak a sincere admission, "I do desire children with you."

"It is not a role I have ever thought to have," she returned steadily, hoping to show indifference rather than discomfort in the topic.

"I suppose you would not, especially with childbearing being forbidden in Rhunic militia culture," he considered, remembering what she mentioned when speaking of Cyane's birth.

"Yes. Pregnancy is quickly terminated and for good reason," she confirmed removing her hand from his and crossing her arms, "I yet do not understand the desire Samsara had to keep her child for all the trouble it caused me."

"But you do not speak of Cyane as being only trouble," Legolas countered her position easily.

Now she shifted uncomfortably, and diverted her gaze. Cyane would remain a soft spot for her. "No, but...I am not the mothering type," she attempted to reaffirm her prior statement on motherhood. She felt inadequately suited for it, especially considering she found children more of a nuisance than anything.

He laughed slightly, suspecting her thoughts on this subject were tenuous. "I think you would be a fine mother," he told her with a warm smile as he envisioned it, "Stern, deadly if crossed, but fine nonetheless."

Despite attempting apathy, Vezely half-smiled; she felt oddly pleased he thought of her as capable at all in this arena. It yet felt ludicrous to consider her life taking such a route, but then again, she would be married within the week; an equally unexpected path for one such as her to take.

"Come on," he momentarily cupped his hand aside her cheek to reengage her eyes, "Let's finish the evening respectably..."


	61. Completeness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A story artwork of Vezely's Rhunic-inspired Elvish wedding gown can be found on the Tumblr: http://vezely.tumblr.com/post/78080534096/so-exited-to-reveal-trizhas-design-for-vezelys

"This is a bit extravagant," Vezely critiqued the hot milk bath just poured for her, hesitating as she stepped into the steaming white liquid that smelled heavily of rose oil.

"It is your wedding day!" Rovian called from an adjoining room where she was preparing other beautification rituals for her daughter to pass through. "If there is one day you are allowed extravagance, let it be today. Besides your skin will feel and look amazing afterwards, trust me."

It was the morning of the union celebration. Guests from across Valinor would be journeying into the lush woodlands of Oropher's colony to partake in the festivities and congratulate the couple on their partnership. Vezely's family would be making the trip there together, riding upon decorated horses to then parade in on foot at the ceremony's start. Her parents would escort her to stand before Legolas and his family. Then, it was planned, the mother of the bride and father of the groom would be asked to partake in the Rhunic tradition of lighting the couple's hearth torch with torches lit with fires from their own homes. The couple would then remove their silver rings and replace them with gold bands and afterwards stand before the guests hand in hand. The ceremony itself was simplistic while the celebration was more elaborate. There would be an abundance of food and drink, music, and dancing. And considering the stature of both houses and the esteemed guest list, expectations of its grandeur were high.

Vezely's grandmother, Nimloth, was already frantically buzzing down the chateau's long hallways checking to make sure everything was prepped for departure before preparing herself, as this was as much about presenting the family as it was about the couple.

"...When was the last time you filed your fingernails?" Rovian asked appalled by her daughter's misshapen talons as she inspected them.

"Filed?" Vezely inquired back, mischievously pretending not to know the concept.

Rovian raised an eyebrow, gathering her daughter was teasing her. She knew she wasn't pleased with all the pampering she was putting her through since awaking that morning. "You are lucky," she continued chatting cheerfully while going to work with the buffing stone, "Most young ellith of your stature concern themselves too much with their appearance. That Legolas also cares little of such frivolity is a sign of his good Woodland upbringing."

"After becoming more acquainted with the Noldor last week, I understand that statement," Vezely remarked dryly, providing her mother a smirk when she briefly lifted her eyes.

"And you have yet to meet any Vanyar," Rovian returned just as wry, implying what many Silvan Elves thought of the "fairest" of their kindred. "...There," she declared soon after, proudly looking at the rounded tips she formed while holding up her daughters hands. She noted her gold and silver ring, "You will wear two gold rings soon..."

The traditional gold bands were one of a myriad of items needing to be acquired and tasks requiring completion in the week before the ceremony. The days had flown by quickly since Vezely returned from Tirion that she barely saw Legolas except when they were inspecting the completion of their home's construction.

"...Everything is ready at your new home?" Rovian inquired while hanging up her gown on the wardrobe's door. Vezely sat in front of the vanity while Hilneth, her grandmother's beauty stylist did her hair. Her mother knew that during the past week there was some uncertainty whether all would be ready in time for them to move in that evening.

Trying to ignore the prodding and pulling of her tresses and the pinning on of an all too elaborate handmade flower circlet, Vezely turned her full attention to her mother's reflection. "Yes, as of yesterday everything is exactly as we desire."

"Good," her mother shared her smile for a moment before adding amused, "Then you shall start your union without worry of tasks needing completion anytime soon. I do not expect to see either of you for at least two weeks after."

Hilneth attempted to contain her giggle; being partnered herself both older ellith knew of the honeymoon period.

Vezely was starting to realize that an Elvish couple's private life was not as reserved as their public one. "It is good to know that is expected," she remarked assuredly before bringing her gaze back to her reflection and the plum colored flowers now in her hair. Part of her could not believe this day had arrived, and in regards to the flowers, that Legolas got his wish.

* * *

"...At least she is marrying a Sindar," the exceptionally tall, silver haired, and grey cloaked Eldar told his grandson bluntly as they awaited the appearance of the bride in the chateau's grand lobby. He stood close aside his beloved wife while conversing with Vezely's grandfather, father, uncle and aunt.

Vezely was unaware that her ancestors Thingol and Melian would be accompanying the family to the wedding, perhaps because the family was also unsure if they would respond to the invite sent to them. The High Elf and Maiar power couple led secluded lives in Valinor, preferring the peaceful solitude of their tucked away forest glen to that of the bustling cities, harbors, and woodland colonies of blessed Elvendom.

"Not just any Sindar, grandfather, but one of great worth," Dior informed him proudly.

"Yes, one of the Nine. I have heard the tales of the grandson of Oropher. It is a respectable lineage," he appraised, seemingly indifferent.

Accompanied by her mother and grandmother, Vezely entered the chateau's lobby finding familiar and unfamiliar eyes upon her. From their appearance and undeniable auras, the likes of which she had only truly experienced in the company of high elves like Galadriel, they needed no formal introduction, nor did she. Thingol and Melian were well aware of Vezely and her history.

Nimloth and Rovian quickly provided the esteemed couple a bow of their heads and extension of their hands from their chest in Elvish fashion, while Vezely simply returned their stares with head held high, expecting a formal introduction to be made and which Dior began, "May I present to you..."

"The child lost but not forgotten," Thingol interrupted sternly, his keen eyes yet interrogating Vezely's appearance, for her white dress's arabesque detailing and her chopped hair were unusual to him. Instead of providing her a greeting, he asked pointedly, "There is a rumor, child, that you felled one of the sons of Fingolfin. What do say to this?"

His demeanor was such that Vezely was unable to gauge anything but a neutral opinion on the matter of dueling Prince Arakano the week before in Tirion. She knew from her grandfather that rumor spread of his defeat and her prowess in the match, so she simply replied true to herself, "He had it coming."

Thingol slowly slid his narrowed gaze over to his grandson, who attempted to hold back an amused smirk from forming on his lips. "The Edain is strong in this one," Thingol declared, though not necessarily with pejorative judgment.

Melian's calm demeanor steadily grew more inquisitive, however, and taking a few slow and measured steps, she stood before Vezely. She gently took her hands in her own and turned them upward. She inspected the young elleth's palms, knowing they had often been stained red with the blood of innocents. Though she also knew how hard she persevered to wash them clean in order to be granted the right to live in blessed Valinor. She lifted her eyes and spoke in her mind, _Much you have suffered_. _But alas, you have found your happiness_. She moved her own hands on top of her palms, covering them momentarily and when she lifted them, two small white flowers had grown. Melian took them and placed them among the plum-colored flowers in her circlet, explaining as she did, "These flowers are called Niphredil, stars of the earth. They are descended from the seeds that first grew in Doriath at the moment of my daughter's birth. But today, they will signify your joy."

Vezely felt a strange serenity come over her as she returned the Maiar's warm gaze, but feeling humbled she quickly bowed her head in gratitude. It was not often that Vezely was rendered speechless.

"We did not know whether to expect you," Nimloth spoke politely after Melian returned to the side of her husband.

"We learned painfully long ago that we should not forsake family in times of sorrow or in times of happiness," Melian replied calmly, yet looking upon Vezely's humbled form as Eluréd came beside her and placed his hand softly aside her cheek.

She looked up at her father slowly, not expecting to find his grey eyes misted over and his soft smile quivering, "You look beautiful," he told her quietly.

Her thoughts paused. After a whole morning of pampering, superficial compliments on her appearance were not desirable, nor did she fully understand the emotions of a father for a daughter before marriage. Yet she remembered once before garnering the same look in her foster father's eyes, Yumruk, upon emerging from her first battle victorious. The pride he had in her that day, to see her grow into her own warrior; to be complete in the sense of a Balchoth. It was perhaps no different for her father today who felt bittersweet joy in seeing his daughter be complete as an Elf becomes when they unite with another; to have finally found her happiness with one he found more than worthy.

"She is of one of our house after all," Rovian agreed with her husband, having the same thoughts regarding her daughter's morning transformation. The family had slowly grown accustomed to her strange trousers and riding boots, a scarf always covering her long graceful neck, and what they considered the unattractive appearance of shortened hair. But now her skin glowed, her dark hair shined, and the gown accentuated her feminine attributes. They had never seen her look so stunning.

"And with haste this house should depart, for the sun is high," Nimloth countered concerned they would be late while moving to adjust her granddaughter's dress's train before she walked, knowing it was unlikely that Vezely would notice the potential to do damage.

On the way to their horses, Dior commented covertly next to her, "I still think you should have worn your sword."

Nimloth, however, heard her husband's remark and scornfully whispered back, "It is wedding, not a war."

Vezely couldn't contain her amusement, and she laughed slightly at this all too common banter. Leaving the chateau she reflected on how grateful she was to be a member of this house. Their acceptance meant more to her than she liked to admit.

Legolas was ready. He was dressed in his silver white robes, a white flower circlet was upon his head, his golden hair shined like the sun, and calm had overtaken him. He was ready to be married. He was ready to put all the hardships of this relationship and the difficult circumstances of their lives behind him. He was ready to start a new chapter in his long life, and one incredibly significant to Elves who only marry once.

Thranduil stood beside him, and he could sense that his son felt at peace; a peace he once feared would never return to him. Feeling sentimental, he slowly declared his thoughts, "There has been but a few times when you committed acts that I found questionable." The phrase garnered Legolas's attention, albeit apprehensively, as he queried his father's angle and wondered whether he would finally reveal his disappointment in him. "But each of those times it was I who suffered from miscomprehension. This too, it appears I have been remiss in understanding." He again paused with unease in admitting it, "It is obvious she completes you, as a life partner should."

Legolas ducked his head humbly before relaying his thoughts, "Father, you have been more supportive in the choices I have made over these years than you might admit. It has not gone unnoticed or unappreciated."

Thranduil pursed his lips together, not expecting his son to perceive of his past actions as deserving of appreciation. "You are my only son. I will always stand by you. That means I also stand by those who you deem worthy enough to spend your life with, the dwarf and the elleth whom you will soon call wife."

He realized it was the first time he heard his father refer to Vezely as an elleth, not an Easterling-Elf, and he took it as further proof of his acceptance of her and his choice.

* * *

Their aura regal, their stature proud, Thingol and Melian led their descendents down through the rows of guests who stood aside the cleared forest pathway, while Oropher and his wife led his own family towards them from the other end. The guests did not expect to see the fabled Maiar and High Elf leading the House of Dior, and certainly it was not expected by Thranduil. It served as a stinging reminder of status and that his son was indeed uniting his family with one of worthy note. Regardless of what he deemed unfit of Vezely's personality, such a match appeared fitting to those bearing witness to their union.

The two families met in the middle of the pathway, stopping underneath a garlanded tree where the Blue Istari, Romestamo, stood with an unlit torch in his hand, set to receive fire from the two now approaching him. Rovian was tasked with holding their home's hearth fire torch, while Thranduil did the same on behalf of his son.

The families stood before each other and provided equal greeting, though notably Oropher and his wife bowed slightly lower, for once having been subjects of Thingol and Melian in their court in Doriath. The elders would all step aside to allow for the parents of the bride and groom to approach one another.

Their offspring yet stood apart, but their eyes had not left the others'.

Romestamo addressed the crowd, "Today we celebrate the union of Legolas of the House of Oropher, and Vezely of the House of Dior. And we do so by honoring two traditions: that of the Eldar, which all of Valinor are familiar, and that of the distant secondborn, which these torches represent. May the father of the groom and mother of the bride bring their respective home's hearth fires forward." Thranduil and Rovian approached the Istari, lit torches in hand awaiting his words. "Fire is life," he continued steadily, "And from the spark of two, one ignites the stronger. If the families are willing, the couple asks for this union to be gifted with the strength of the fire of your houses, so that theirs too may flourish as yours before them."

The parents brought their fires to the torch the Istari held, setting it aflame. Vezely's smile grew momentarily; it was uncanny to now be partaking in a Balchoth ritual, but she was proud to do so.

"The rings," Romestamo added after setting aside the torch in its holder where it would burn until the couple returned home to light their hearth with it.

With a twinkle in his eye, Gimli proudly stepped forward holding the gold bands upon a white satin pillow, desiring that he could be a part of the ceremony even if in some small way. The couple approached him and ducked their heads in greeting. First they removed their silver rings, each exchanging them for one gold band to place upon the other's right index finger. Since they couldn't converse, they instead exchanged several enchanted glances, speaking with their eyes. Vezely could tell, by a brief upward glance followed by a small smirk upon Legolas's face, that he was indeed amused to see the flowers in her hair.

With the ring firmly upon their fingers, they turned before the crowd, clasping their hands beside them.

"May your houses be blessed by your union," Romestamo declared, "And may we all celebrate the joy you have found."

The families bowed their heads to the couple and the guests did the same. Singing started, a melody often sung at union ceremonies, and white petals were released from the tree tops. Hand and hand they headed down the pathway garnering bright smiles from all they passed.

The guests would start conversing, glasses of white wine would be served, and all would make their way over to congratulate the bride and groom.

"...I have rare insight into the start of this partnership," Gimli remarked proudly to those gathered nearby to hear tales from the famed dwarf, "An arrow pointed at the one, the others hand on the hilt of her sword. Tense, I tell you. If it wasn't for Gandalf I don't know who would have happen."

Gandalf chuckled, "Yes, they were enemies before allies. But I did little more than set minds at ease. They discovered a connection well on their own."

"And one noticeable to all but themselves," Gimli pointed out amused. "Ah, those were dark times, but some light could be found..."

Many from Tirion journeyed to Oropher's woods, including Lord Glorfindel, Lord Elrond and his family, and Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn. Joy was found in the reunion of families and friends, and in shared memories of Middle Earth, where many of them once lived.

It was customary for the couple to depart before the rest of the guests, who would continue to celebrate well into the evening. The couple would carry their torch with them to their new home which sat on the borders of Oropher's colony, but which was also close enough to the shoreline that the ocean waves could be heard from a distant. The sun had just set when they reached the entry path.

* * *

The hearth fire ignited and filled the space before them with a soft orange light and comforting warmth. They basked in its glow before turning their attention back to each other. Their hands remained on the torch and together they moved to extinguish it. They did not speak, but small, thoughtful smiles grew on their faces. Both were reflecting on how far they came: the hardships overcome and the uncertainty that this could ever become their reality.

Vezely brought a hand to Legolas's cheek and slowly traced his jawline with her finger, while he pulled her closer into an embrace, kissing her once softly and afterwards lingering his nose on hers as his breathing deepened. The small taste heightened his anticipation of soon taking her to bed. Vezely breathed in deeply with her eyes closed, swaying her nose gently side-to-side on his before taking his hand and leading him to their bedroom.

The open windows allowed for a small breeze and the light of the stars and moon to stream inside, making lighting candles unnecessary. They walked over to the side of their large, four poster bed, which was decked in fresh white linens and an abundance of feather stuffed pillows. They faced each other and clasped their hands together in front of them, standing as they did after exchanging rings during the ceremony. She could sense from his unsteady breaths that he was slightly uncertain about how to proceed, for they had long stayed their desires for the sake of propriety. She slowly brought the back of his hands to her lips, kissing each side slowly. Her gentle touch and warm smile provided him reassurance as she placed his hands at her shoulders, encouraging him to slip off the outer sheer layer of her dress. He traced her bare arms with his fingertips as she began unclasping the broach at the collar of his robe, peeling it back off his shoulders and letting the lush fabric drop to the floor below him. Soon after she found the silver buttons along the front of tunic. He watched her calm face as she unbuttoned each one slowly, noting anew her beauty in the starlight.

Carefully she removed his tunic; pleasurably tracing her fingers along his collarbone and admiring his strong chest as she did. But he swayed her attention by tilting her chin up with his finger and leaning in to kiss her. She brought her hands to his bare back, pushing him closer as he also wrapped his arms around her waist. His hands moved upward and stopped on the clasps which held her dress on.

Their kiss stopped, but their breathing deepened. Their foreheads lingered together and Vezely perceived his uncertainty returned. So she turned around, offering him the view of the clasps that would need to be unhinged. He did so holding his breath, not expecting the dress to fall so easily with the last hook, leaving her naked before him.

Unabashed she faced him, a soft smile yet upon her face as he innocently returned her gaze. She moved closer to him, and he stood motionless as she began to unclasp his trousers. The scent of blossoms from the circlet yet upon her head and her rose scented skin intoxicated him, leaving him unaware that he now stood naked before her. He took her in his arms and the sensation of skin against skin left them both breathless which their kiss did not remedy. But before taking her to the bed, Legolas stopped and gently cupped her cheeks with hands to engage her eyes.

"May Eru be our witness and bless our union. And acknowledge that I am yours Vezely, and you are mine, and nothing can part us," he spoke these sacred words. Elves rarely invoked the name of the One, but did so in the act of marriage, which was only achieved through bodily union. For Vezely, this was the first time she heard Eru's name spoken as such.

She repeated his words wholeheartedly, "I am yours Legolas, and you are mine."

He pulled her face to his and kissed her softly, sitting down upon the bed and taking her into his arms as he lied back.

* * *

"I could stay here forever," Vezely revealed her pleasant thoughts as she listened to his heartbeat, her head yet laying on his bare chest as he stroked her hair.

"And I equally would not let you leave," he replied softly, yet steadying his breathing from their prior act of lovemaking.

She looked up at him, asking with bemusement, "How is this possible? To feel this way?"

"You desire an answer?" he queried with a small smile, knowing the feeling she spoke of, for he too had never before felt as such.

She shook her head, then adding coyly, "But I do desire your lips upon mine again."


	62. Epilogue

Vezely tiptoed behind Legolas and nuzzled her nose into his cheek before peppering his ear and neck with a few soft kisses. The welcomed assault made him cease his work at the cutting board and close his eyes in order to better relish his wife's warm affections. With him unawares, she carefully reached her hand around him and stole a slice of one of the apples he just cut, bringing it to her mouth shortly after.

Her bite's crunch alerted him to her mischief. He opened his eyes and shifted them upon her in amused consternation, "You have no patience."

"Nope," she smirked, overtly pleased with herself for accomplishing what he deemed difficult for her lack of Elvish gracefulness or silence in her actions. Though her remark led to his entrapment; he brought his hands around her waist and held her steadily.

As a peace offering, she brought the other half of the apple slice to his mouth. He accepted the sweet morsel, kissing her fingers that lingered on his lips after. Though the pleasure of his kiss left her unawares, and when she closed her eyes he proceeded to hoist her into his arms. "I have missed our bed," he declared on the way to the bedroom.

"Who is impatient now?" she asked mischievously, clasping her hands around his neck and allowing him to carry her away.

The young couple had just returned to their home that morning from a three month long cruise sailing around Valinor in her family's unused sailboat. The ocean adventure was a time to mourn and reflect after Gimli's death. Surrounded by friends and with a smile upon his face and cheerful glint in his eyes, the beloved dwarf and hero of the Third Age passed away during the spring following their union ceremony. He had no regrets, having lived a fulfilling life and knowing he would be welcomed into the hallowed halls of his fathers.

_"You deserve the happiness you found,"_ Gimli told Legolas during his last moments, desiring nothing but his friend to spend the rest of his days in joy. _"Do not mourn me leaving, for I go in peace knowing you are in good hands, surrounded by loved ones."_ Alternatively, he told Vezely to _"Keep him on his toes."_ And she intended to.

Vezely would rediscover her youth in Valinor; that is, she discovered that a carefree existence was possible and its simplicity enjoyable - spending the evenings gazing up at the stars, the afternoons swimming in the nearby lake, and the mornings in her husband's arms. If asked whether she missed her life as a general, Vezely would not answer directly - _The drums of war would yet stir my heart if heard -_ she would say, though her heart now beat so in rhythm with another's that she desired its tempo never to change. She had found happiness there with her family and soon would start to build one of her own.

* * *

"I am pregnant, not disabled," Vezely scoffed, jumping upon her horse with ease and purposefully foregoing using the stepstool the stable master had brought over for her.

The ellon should have known better. Like her grandfather, Lord Dior, Lady Vezely had gained a reputation as _unusual_ among the Valinoreans - the wife of Legolas was unconventional in her look and manner, many said of her, though that does not mean she was necessarily unpleasant to be around.

Already upon his steed, Legolas ducked his head, hiding his smirk in order to spare the polite ellon any more discomfort. He continued to find himself bemused by his wife's condition and her contempt for special treatment. Pregnancy was rare for Elves who lived eternally but had but a few children. It was even rarer in Valinor during this later age. Most had already passed the child bearing stage of their life cycle making a pregnant elleth a precious site to behold and one many felt obliged to cater to. But Vezely would have no such privilege bestowed upon her and preferred it to be a non-subject to all but her and her husband.

The decision to have a child was one slowly realized by the couple. One evening they had started discussing their childhoods and discovered irreconcilable differences in upbringing, leading them to negotiate what would be best for a child who would live only a peaceful existence in Valinor.

"They cannot live in ignorance of the world's darkness," Vezely queried his thoughts one evening.

"Nor would they, we should not forego speaking of the past,"Legolas assured her, not desiring them to be sheltered or forgetful as some in Valinor had become.

"So I can speak about how when I was their age I was learning how best to throw a man from his horse with a polearm?" she replied skeptical if he understood what she meant.

"They will discover their mother is unique one way or another..." Legolas knew she fretted over whether motherhood suited her.

She did not possess the softer attributes of her own mother, Vezely would say, nor the patience others had especially when confronted by the obstinacy of children. Motherhood was only a hypothetical consideration rather a reality she was ready for. Though eventually she began to ponder what their children would look like, what traits they would possess - if they would be extra stubborn as both of their parents, enjoy reading and writing words like their father, or manipulating numbers and calculating statistics like their mother; and if they would prefer the sword over the bow.

..."They can learn both," Legolas replied when she asked this one day when they were sitting by the lake. He was surprised to hear her pondering over it for she rarely if ever brought up the subject of children.

"They could, but if they are ambushed and in close proximity of the enemy, sword skill is preferable," she reasoned, her demeanor and tone serious as she kept her eyes on the placid water in front of them.

Legolas looked over at her and wondered if she was joking. "No one is going to ambush them."

"How do you know? The Noldor cannot be trusted," she maintained her serious tone, though a slight smirk curled on the one corner of her lips alerting Legolas to her mischief, as she often made bold statements to see his reaction.

"You are sounding like your grandfather again..."

When their parents heard the news of their pregnancy, they were overjoyed. Thranduil in particular began to view Vezely with an even kinder eye for she was not simply the wife of his son, but soon to be the mother of his grandchild.

"...You have gotten bigger since we last saw you," Legolas's mother exclaimed cheerfully upon seeing her daughter-in-law after a two week interval. Her stomach was bulging as she was in the last quarter of pregnancy.

"Have I?" Vezely answered nonchalantly, her hand noticeably bracing her back, "All I know is it has been too long since I could see my toes."

"Sit," Thranduil quickly pulled a chair over for her, remembering his own wife in this stage and her exhaustion after even short travel.

While Vezely could have easily given him gripe for caring, as she did to all others who fussed over her condition, she accepted the seat with a simple, "Thank you." This exchange did not go unnoticed by Legolas who was readily expecting otherwise.

Valinor had quickly become their home and life acquired a blissful normalcy, but one that would be joyfully disrupted with the birth of their son.

* * *

The hearth fire's warmth was appreciated even more so that early evening when Legolas entered his home's main living space. His hair and robes were drenched by the sudden downpour on his way home from the market. Vezely quietly greeted him with a towel and a consoling smile that acknowledged his mild discomfort. She assisted him in removing his wet robes and putting on a dry one, though they both remained silent during this exchange for their son was nodding off to sleep in the other room. Intermittently though, his cooing sounds were heard since the drops of rain hitting their rooftop filled the child with wonder.

Noting that Legolas suddenly looked distant and lost in thought, Vezely whispered, "Is everything alright?"

He returned his wandering gaze, though his eyes contained tears on the verge of falling. He cupped the sides of face gently, "I envisioned this long ago," he revealed slowly, "Do you remember that night we were caught in the rainstorm in Minas Tirith?"

Vezely gathered her memories of the short interval of time they spent in Gondor's capital before she departed for Rhun. A small smile found its way to her face as she recounted, "We had met in secret on the terrace of our wing of the guest house, after that event where you were courting Lady Adele."

"I was not courting her," Legolas reminded firmly, yet still whispering.

" _Pretending_ to court her," Vezely corrected herself with a smirk before continuing her memories, "I also remember returning to your quarters soaking wet and spending the rest of the evening in one of your fancy Elvish robes, sleeping in the warm comfort of your arms."

"The rain had never brought me such joy," he replied softly, touched by her words. "What I saw was brief, but vivid," he slowly revealed his vision, considering it as he did. "I saw the glow of our hearth fire, and I heard the sound of our son as I hear him now over the patter of the rain upon the roof."

"You saw our future?" Vezely asked in complete disbelief. "You did not tell me this."

"I could not," he stroked her cheek gently, his eyes wavering, "So much was uncertain and I feared to believe it myself."

Vezely shook her head in regretful nostalgia, "I have not forgotten that uncertainty, or that fear."

"Nor I," he confirmed softly, taking her hand and kissing the back of it, "But we have overcome it. All is as it should be."

Their son cooed louder, his shrill, un-elflike sounds causing them to share a small laugh. They walked over hand-in-hand to his bed, finding him holding his tiny hands up asking to be lifted. Legolas had no heart to deny his request.

Vezely watched in wonder as her husband gently picked the babe up with the look of charmed pride upon his face as the child's eyes responded with gladness to see his father.

_How did one such as I find happiness living the simple life of an Elf?_ Vezely thought beside herself. For her life was simple and carefree. Valinor had not deprived her of her Easterling culture nor her warrior heart, but she began to better understand her Elvish ancestry, and accept it.

Legolas brought his free arm around her shoulder, embracing her along with their child. "It is as it should be," he told her again, kissing her cheek softly.

"It is," she confirmed as their son now reached his hand towards her. She hooked her arm around her husband's waist and grabbed the child's tiny hand with her own so she could plant a gentle kiss on his palm. "It is."

**~THE END~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading my story!


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